


Of Duty, Atonement, and Redemption

by sgcgategirl



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Post Episode: s02e06 Trinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-01
Updated: 2006-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-05 06:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 143,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1808065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgcgategirl/pseuds/sgcgategirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fallout from the Arcturus project might be more complicated than it seemed to be at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real fic in the Stargate Atlantis universe. This was originally supposed to be a short little 50-page story, it has quickly morphed into something else entirely. :: shrug :: I guess I just can't do short very well, or really long for that matter, but that's another conversation entirely.
> 
> Many, many thanks must go to the YIM girls: Aniko, Yllek, Steph, Toni, and Emm. They spent way too much time listening to me write and complain and generally being very paranoid. I don't call myself "paranoid chick" for no good reason. 
> 
> Also, thanks to Rox who stepped in and did my final beta and put up with me poking at her asking: "Are you done yet? Huh, huh, huh? Are you done yet?" 
> 
> Medals all around.

"Condemned into everlasting redemption."

—William Shakespeare, _Much Ado about Nothing_. Act iv. Sc. 2.

 

"What atonement is there for blood spilt upon the earth?"

—Aeschylus

 

"It is easier to do one’s duty to others than to one’s self. If you do your duty to others, you are considered reliable. If you do your duty to yourself, you are considered selfish."

—Thomas Szasz

***

Doctor Rodney McKay stormed through the hallways of Atlantis, his mouth set in a thin line, his head down, his eyes refusing to meet anyone else's. He could hear their whispers as he passed by, could feel their eyes on the small of his back. They weren't subtle about their stares, about their comments. The chill in the hallways wasn't due to some strange misfire of the heating units.

It was because of him.

How long had it been since Elizabeth had dismissed him unceremoniously from her office, her disgust with him clearly etched into the lines of her face? Five minutes, maybe less. And the rumors had already spread, rolling out in waves before he could get under cover, before he could crawl into his quarters away from the prying eyes, from the accusation he knew was in their eyes.

His room was now his haven and his prison. At least she hadn't insisted on an armed security escort.

The words still echoed in his head, Weir's anger mixing and mingling with his own guilt and terror. He knew he'd screwed up. He wasn't oblivious to everything that went on. Screw ups were things he never forgot.

_You destroyed three quarters of a solar system!_

What was it about him that couldn't help but make corrections, adjustments, even when he was being reprimanded? Even standing there in Weir's office, the door closed behind him, McKay knew that their heated exchange could be heard all throughout the control room. Out of the corner of his eye he'd seen Teyla and Ronon pause, glancing up toward the second level after the gate closed behind them even as Elizabeth's angry words demanded his attention. His mouth, though, had another thought in mind and he found himself responding. Crossing his hands over his chest, he'd replied, his tone arrogant, his words condescending.

_Well, five sixths. It's not an exact science._

Nothing in his life was an exact science. It never had been and he was resigned with it never changing. Sometimes he wished he could predict the outcome of every decision he could make with the same accuracy as his astrophysics calculations. Then, he wouldn't have to worry or feel guilty when he screwed something up and someone paid the price.

And the list kept getting longer and longer.

This time no one had died. Scratch that. No one had died today. Yesterday was another matter entirely. He still swore he could smell the scent of Collins' radiation-laden and burned corpse that he'd had to bring home in the back of the jumper. He knew he would never forget the tendrils of smoke that rose from the fused fingers on those blackened hands. Hands that had been sure and steady while piecing together circuits and electronics, hands that would never wrap around his "Spock Lives" mug of earl grey tea.

And Collins had been one of the smarter ones in the science department—except for Grodin, Zelenka, and himself, of course. But come to think of it, Grodin was dead already, blown up on the Ancient space station months ago, the staff still trying to fill his place in the control room and in the science department.

He rounded another corner, nearly colliding with a shocked airman who quickly flung himself against the nearby wall allowing McKay to proceed without missing a beat. Good reflexes on the new recruits, he thought absently. Too bad most of them didn't have two brain cells to rub together when it came to common sense. And the scientists were just as bad. Maybe it was time for him to talk to Carson about clones. At least they'd be able to get the city up and running and he'd be able to sleep more than four hours in a night.

But then, they'd just accuse him of catering to his ego or something else just as ridiculous. Was it his fault that he was always right…most of the time?

_Rodney, can you give your ego a rest for one second?_

Apparently, that was something beyond his grasp, he thought as he finally reached his quarters. Waving his hand in front of the sensor, the door slid open. He thought the lights on—a handy skill thanks entirely to the Ancient gene therapy Carson had given him—dimming them immediately so that most of the room was shrouded in darkness. He wasn't in the mood for bright lights.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he engaged the lock with another mental command before dropping fully-clothed onto his bed.

He groaned into the pillow, his relief at being home tempered with the fact that he had nowhere else to go.

After Elizabeth had yelled at him, her voice raised in anger as she tried to get through to him, she'd closed down. Rodney could see the exact moment it happened, her face becoming set in stone, her fury cold. She'd walked behind her desk, fingering the reports piled to one side. It didn't take her long to make a decision, to choose his sentence. Her words still stung, even now. He knew she had a backbone and a temper—she needed one to run the SGC and Atlantis and for all the high-level treaties she brokered—but he'd never experienced it firsthand.

_I can't let this drop, Rodney, not this time. You are supposed to lead, to be an example for your staff. I can't remember ever seeing this kind of inappropriate, unprofessional behavior from you before and I expect to never see it again. Understood?_

Her eyes flashed once, the anger in them rendering him speechless. He'd nodded once, slowly, a tendril of fear creeping up his belly.

_I'm relieving you of duty for the next week and you are confined to your quarters. Doctor Zelenka will take over your responsibilities during this time. This is non-negotiable._

She'd added the last part as soon as he'd opened his mouth to protest, the words dying before they had the chance to leave his tongue.

_And you are also to consider yourself grounded for the next four weeks. Colonel Sheppard will either make do with one less team member or else choose another scientist to accompany him off-world. At that time we can re-evaluate your standing on this base._

He'd swallowed hard and he could feel the blood draining from his face as she'd continued, his eyes widening with every word she uttered.

_Am I perfectly clear?_

Rodney had nodded, muttering something that passed as an affirmative answer as his eyes dropped toward the floor, whatever little of his pride, his self-respect disappearing in an instant.

_Do I need to send you with an escort or can you make it to your quarters on your own?_

His head came up for that question, surprise, anger, and hurt running through his mind, the emotions sweeping across his face. He'd told her no, that he could find his way; that they weren't necessary. She'd nodded sharply, her eyes cold.

He'd blanched at her treatment, at the coolness of her words as whatever color was left in his face drained away. He'd turned on his heel and retreated from her office without looking back.

And now, lying on his stomach, his face mashed into his pillow, Rodney realized just how screwed he was. It wasn't bad enough that she had made him feel like some errant five-year-old as he was reprimanded and sent to his room. But it was obvious—even to the usually oblivious physicist—that he'd lost her trust and her respect.

He needed to apologize. Not only to her, but to Radek, the science staff, and Colonel Sheppard.

He had to start somewhere. To try and make things right with an apology was a small gesture, but right now that was the only thing within his power to do. But, stuck as he was in his quarters, he didn't have many options.

Groaning as he levered himself upright, he headed for his laptop sitting on his desk at the far side of the room. He'd moved the desk a few weeks ago when he'd been working on some project or another. It had been tough and his mind hadn't been as cooperative as it normally was. But once he'd moved the desk, positioning it so he could see out of the glass door leading to the small balcony outside his room, he'd discovered that everything came easier—even though he often found himself staring out at the ever-changing sky above Atlantis.

Popping his laptop open, he booted the machine and began rummaging in his desk drawers. He had a few PowerBars stashed in there somewhere. After finding one, he moved to the balcony door, opening it to let the cool air brush against his flushed face. Ripping open the foil wrapper, he took a bite of the bar, chewing slowly as he tried to calm his mind that was threatening to run away with him. He knew what he had to do and it was just a matter of taking everything step by step. Then, things would be back to normal in no time.

He hated being reminded that he was human, that he wasn't always right. He preferred being the genius, the so-called 'Answer Man'. Those men didn't make the mistakes he did, didn't send people to their deaths.

Several minutes passed before he turned back to his computer, his fingers flying over the track pad to click on several icons, launching a variety of programs in addition to his email client. While he was fiddling around with the laptop, he might as well check on the experiments he had running in the lab. And there was some research he'd been meaning to do in the Ancient database. His week of downtime might end up being very productive.

Several rude beeps erupted from the machine on his desk, pulling Rodney's attention back to the messages flashing on the screen.

"Access denied."

"Access denied."

"Access denied."

What the…?

His email was up and there were several messages waiting in his inbox, but nothing else had launched correctly. Quickly closing the dialog windows, he tried logging onto the various servers again.

And got the same response.

Sighing heavily, he raised his hand to his ear, clicking his radio on to transmit. What was Zelenka doing to the computer system? There was nothing scheduled, no maintenance. Everything should be up and running. He'd been gone a few hours and the Czech already had the system in knots.

He couldn't help it, but his frustration and anger bled into his voice. "McKay to Zelenka, respond."

It took a few seconds before his call was answered—and not by the scientist. "Doctor McKay," came the smooth reply, "is there some kind of emergency?"

"Sergeant?" he sputtered after a few seconds as his brain made the connection of who had answered his call. It was the Canadian who sat at the communications console in the control room. Rodney could never remember his name—first or last. It took too much energy to remember every last person's name on the expedition and he had better things to spend his brain power on. His reply was lame, he knew, but it was the only thing that came to mind. "I was trying to reach Zelenka."

"Yes, sir. Is there something I can help you with?"

The man's tone—overly polite and condescending—drove him to distraction, ratcheting his anger and frustration up another notch. "Unless you know how to fix a computer mainframe, then I think the answer is no. I need to speak with Radek."

"Hold on a moment, Doctor."

"Finally," McKay muttered, his hand drumming a steady beat against his bouncing leg. This was unbelievable. The Czech had the guy in the control room running interference for him, taking messages, acting like his secretary. Apparently, his temporary promotion to head of the science department was going to his head and it only took fifteen minutes. Unbelievable.

What was more astonishing to Rodney was why he didn't think of it first.

"Doctor McKay, what seems to be the problem?" Weir's icy tone immediately snapped him back to the present, his hand and leg freezing in place.

"Elizabeth?" he choked out. He'd been planning on avoiding her for the better part of a day before attempting the apology. Fate, it seemed, had a wicked sense of humor.

"The sergeant mentioned that you were looking for Doctor Zelenka. Can I ask what it's in reference to?"

Rodney sighed. He was going to have to have a serious talk with Radek when this was all said and done. What did he have on Elizabeth that she was acting as his secretary? "There seems to be some problem with the mainframe because it's not letting me log into any of the servers or the database. I was hoping to discuss that with Radek."

"There's nothing wrong with the computer systems."

"What do you mean there's nothing wrong?" he asked testily. "I keep getting error messages."

"Apparently, I did not make myself clear when you were here earlier. You have been relieved of duty for a week, which means no research, no access to the servers or to the database. If you need to leave your quarters for any reason, you have to get it cleared by me or Colonel Sheppard and you will be accompanied by a security officer at all times. If your expertise is needed for a project and Doctor Zelenka deems it important enough, we will contact you directly. Do you understand now?"

He swallowed twice before replying. "Perfectly."

"If that's all, I have some reports which need my attention."

"That was all. Sorry to bother you. McKay out." He clicked off his radio, yanking it from his ear and tossing it on the desk, watching as it bounced several times before stopping. Turning slightly in his chair, he leaned down, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands as he tried to breathe, tried to get rid of the heavy weight that had landed on his chest.

He was so screwed.

***

Colonel John Sheppard never did things halfway. He was an all or nothing kind of guy and, so far, it seemed to work very well.

And to top it off, he had always been a good judge of character, of people.

Until now, it seemed.

When had things gone pear shaped? And how could he be so oblivious to not see it coming in the first place, or the second place for that matter?

This was why he never let anyone get close, why he kept everyone at arm's length. It was easier to see through all of the bluster and the arm waving, to get to the heart of the matter when his emotions weren't engaged.

Cold and clinical kept you alive.

Mistakes happen when you get too close. It happened to him in Afghanistan. And that wasn't the first time. He had sworn back then that it wouldn't let it affect him again, but somehow, someway, McKay had wormed his way past his defenses.

And sure enough, mistakes had followed.

And he wasn't sure who he was angrier with—himself or the scientist—for in this instance they were both to blame. Even if John hadn't pushed the button, he'd allowed it to happen, allowed McKay to manipulate the situation so he'd have to go along with his plan, his idea, his over-inflated ego.

_Trust me._

Rodney's words still echoed in his ears, taunting him, haunting him.

He should have known better, shouldn't have let their friendship be the deciding factor in what had been a very straightforward decision. But he did trust—had trusted—the scientist with his life time and time again. They were a team. Life and death hung on the confidence they had in each other. And it was true, McKay had never asked for his support, his trust, in such a public way.

But it seems as if it might have been misplaced.

Stalking down to the infirmary, Sheppard refused to stop, dodging bodies that got in his way. He just wanted to get this stupid exam over with so he could get some real work done. He had reports to write and things to do and a date with a very heavy punching bag in the gym.

Teyla and Ronon should be back soon—at least that's what he thought. Hopefully that trade agreement had gone better than this blasted science experiment.

What had McKay been thinking? Smarter than the Ancients… What was it with McKay and that ego of his? Sooner or later that was going to be the death of them all—and it nearly was this time. As it was, they'd lost Collins.

There had to be a better way to control it, or at least contain it. Whatever Weir had in mind as punishment for McKay was probably nowhere near what he really needed. She was soft, lenient when it came to the scientist—always had been. If there was a time for tough love, this was good enough as any. There had to be a way to rein McKay in. They couldn't afford to have another incident like that again. John couldn't even begin to imagine what might have happened, how many more people could have died if he'd allowed the other scientists McKay had wanted to return with them.

Storming into the infirmary, John spotted Beckett at the far end of the room talking with one of the nurses—Matthews he thought. She was a new recruit, coming over with the last batch on the Daedalus. Either he'd heard his stomping feet or else the eyes in the back of his head had 20/20 vision, because Carson turned offering a smile in welcome.

"Colonel Sheppard, what a pleasant surprise that you're here and I didn't have to track you down." His eyes slid around the Colonel obviously looking for someone else. "Where's Rodney?"

"Still with Doctor Weir. Look, can we get this over with?"

Beckett's eyes widened, but he didn't comment at John's harsh tone, merely gesturing to a nearby bed. "Hop on up and we can get started."

The doctor moved quickly, every motion crisp and efficient, keeping conversation to a minimum, which suited John just fine. He wasn't in the mood to talk. He'd been talked at all day long and was ready for some peace and quiet.

What made matters worse was that his day was far from over. The paperwork that went along with destroying a solar system had to be bad. He was about to find out.

And he still had to finish his conversation with Elizabeth. God only knows what mood she'd be in when she concluded her discussion with Rodney. He could try your patience on a good day, but after this debacle… John was glad the flight home had been short. He normally wasn't a violent man, but this time if he had to spend another minute alone with McKay, he might have done something the physicist would have regretted—and would have involved copious amounts of drugs from Beckett.

McKay should be grateful for small favors.

As Beckett finished filling the last vial with blood, the infirmary doors slid open and John tensed, his hands clenching into a fist. John forced himself to relax the muscles in his arm, but they weren't cooperating as quickly as normal. He could hear the sigh the doctor uttered as soon as he'd reacted, but Beckett didn't say anything, instead turning his head to catch sight of Ronon Dex and Teyla Emmagan, the other half of Sheppard's team, as they walked in the door.

"I'll be with you two shortly," he said, turning back to John.

"We are not in any hurry, Doctor Beckett," Teyla replied, her voice musical, her tone tighter than normal.

John shifted a little on the exam bed, trying to see around the doctor. Beckett tugged him backwards slightly so he could finish. John scowled, but permitted the doctor's hands-on approach. There was no point in fighting with it since it only meant that this whole ordeal would take longer. "Everything okay?"

"We are fine, Colonel," she replied, stepping closer as Beckett taped the gauze pad to the inside of Sheppard's elbow.

"You're done," Carson replied, a slight edge to his voice. But Sheppard ignored it as the doctor turned to the two new patients. "If you give me five minutes I'll be back for your exams."

"Fine," Ronon replied, his hands on his hips, his eyes never remaining still for long.

Teyla nodded her head, offering a tired smile to Beckett. "We shall be waiting your return."

Beckett moved away without another word, making notes in Sheppard's chart as he took the blood samples back to the lab.

Sheppard eyed his teammates, eyes shifting between the two of them. "What happened on Belkan? I haven’t seen you this tense in a while." He slid off the exam table, shoving his sleeve down and shrugging on his jacket.

"Nothing, Colonel. The negotiations were difficult, but no more so than expected. We obtained the grain Doctor Weir requested. It should bolster our supplies for a time. Some of the Marines have already transported it to the labs for testing before it is brought to the kitchen."

Teyla's response, while appropriate, didn't seem to be the entire story. Glancing at the tall warrior, John tried to figure out what was tweaking his radar, but Ronon wasn't offering any hints.

"Colonel?" Teyla began a few moments later, her head tilted to the side, her forehead furrowed. He turned toward her and she continued. "When we arrived through the Stargate, we…overheard part of a conversation between Doctor Weir and Doctor McKay. It seems as if things did not go well on Doranda."

"You could say that again," Sheppard muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. Before either Ronon or Teyla could respond, he continued. "The power source we found ended up blowing up in our faces. If it weren't for the Daedalus, McKay and I probably wouldn't be here right now."

"What went wrong?" Ronon asked, worry and surprise briefly sliding across his face.

"McKay went wrong." From their startled expressions, John knew they probably had a lot more questions, but this wasn't the time or the place. And besides, he wasn't in the mood. Near-death experiences made him testy. "I have to get back up to finish my briefing with Elizabeth. Why don't we meet in the morning and I'll try to explain what happened?"

Teyla inclined her head in a deep nod while Ronon offered a shrug. "Sure, Sheppard."

"Colonel, you're still here?" The question startled him, jerking his head around to come face-to-face with an irritated Beckett. "I thought you were in a hurry."

"I'm just leaving," John replied, striding to the door. He could feel the weight of Beckett's stare between his shoulder blades but he didn't turn around. And even before he was out the door, it was gone as the doctor moved to tend to his two new patients.

***

Doctor Elizabeth Weir picked up her tablet PC in an attempt to do some work, but her mind kept drifting. Between the death of Collins, the communiqué from Colonel Caldwell about the results of McKay's science project, and the brief conversation she'd had with both Sheppard and McKay when they returned through the wormhole with a frantic 'close the iris' command, she'd had just about enough aggravation and stress to last a lifetime.

And if she was honest with herself, she was angry, furious even.

She'd worked with Rodney for more than two years now and she'd grown used to the arrogant man. She trusted him. He had his faults—his ego for one—but they'd never gotten in the way of his job, of his duty, his responsibilities. For some reason, even as abrasive as he was, people trusted him, listened to him, followed his lead…respected him even. It was odd, to put it mildly.

He was a genius; of that she was certain. It was evident in everything he did.

But his behavior today…

Weir sighed, resting her elbows on her desk as she absently fiddled with the open file on her desktop. Even thinking about everything that had transpired today made her blood boil.

And it wasn't only his abysmal behavior. It hadn't helped the situation to have Colonel Caldwell egging McKay on, which only placed her in a more difficult position. Even if she'd said 'no' to the continued experiments, she knew the Pentagon well enough to know that they would have issued an order permitting the continuation of the work Rodney had begun. She would have bought them a few days, a week perhaps, but the amount of lives that may have been lost if most of the science department had been there when the weapon exploded was too immense to imagine.

She'd been elegantly backed into a corner especially when John had come to her, asking her to reconsider. She should have stuck to her initial decision, whatever the cost, refusing to allow circumstance and strong personalities to change her mind.

A knock on her door drew her attention to her visitor, a rather ragged-looking John Sheppard.

"Colonel? I thought you were doing your post-mission check-up with Carson?" she asked, gesturing for him to take the chair across from her desk. As he seated himself, the door to her office slid shut behind him. Some days she was jealous of his ability to use those mental commands.

"I'm done. Ronon and Teyla are in there now. Things went well with their mission?"

"I think so. I didn't get the chance to speak to them when they returned. I’m sure Teyla will stop here before she turns in for the night."

"They didn't stop to give you an update?"

Weir glanced down for a beat. Raising her head once again, she held his gaze steadily as she answered. "I was otherwise engaged at the time. Doctor McKay and I were having a…conversation about the events on Doranda."

John's eyebrows rose as he shifted in his seat, his face hardening. He'd understood her unspoken words. "What did you decide?"

Glancing down at her hands briefly, she raised her head once again to meet his eyes. "He's been relieved of duty for a week and he's grounded for three weeks beyond that. It's up to you if you want to add a fourth to your team while he's restricted to the base."

John's expression didn't change, but Weir wasn't expecting it to. When he entered military mode, nothing appeared to faze him. "You have Zelenka in charge of the science department?"

"Temporarily, yes. I haven't decided yet if it's for the month or just the week."

Sheppard nodded. "If we draw a more scientific-oriented mission, I'll talk to him about assigning one of the scientists to my team. They need more off-world experience anyway."

"John…" she began, glancing down once again, noting her rough cuticles, a jagged edge on one of her nails. The frustration and anger she was feeling began to bleed into her voice as she continued, "What happened out there? Rodney was so sure this would work, but then Doctor Zelenka approached me with other information. What went wrong?"

"McKay."

"That's it?"

John shrugged, his eyes drifting to a spot over her left shoulder. "There's really nowhere else to look. Everything revolved around what McKay thought he could do and we all know what he thinks about his own abilities. That's never an issue when it comes to McKay. We should have stuck with our first decision instead of letting him talk us into it." He paused, a flash of something Elizabeth couldn't recognize crossing his face before he met her gaze once again. "And honestly, Colonel Caldwell was no help."

"Agreed," Weir nodded, leaning back in her chair. "But he was right. Once the SGC and the Pentagon got involved we would have had no control over the situation at all."

"But, it would have bought us time," Sheppard replied, his tone determined and strong. "Maybe Zelenka would have been able to talk some sense into McKay. All we needed was a little more time." John took another breath, letting it out slowly. "McKay was wrong and he still couldn't see it even when the building was beginning to crumble around us. If we had delayed a few more seconds, nothing would have saved us from that explosion."

"What do you mean?"

"If I hadn't been able to get McKay to move, he would have stayed there trying to fix things until the building exploded with him inside of it. He had tunnel vision, like he couldn’t see anything except that damned Nobel Prize he keeps talking about."

Weir felt her anger bubbling once again as John verbalized what she'd been trying not to think about. "We can't have that kind of attitude here. We can't afford to." She paused, trying to draw an air of calm back to herself. "And I know that's just a human failing, Rodney's biggest failing. But I can't just let this slide. Something has to be done."

"I agree and I think what you've done might be enough to dissuade any of the other scientists from doing something—anything—even remotely like that again. But, honestly, I’m not sure if that's enough to get through to McKay."

"After the month, we’ll have the opportunity to re-evaluate him and we can decide then if it's a good idea for him to remain on Atlantis." John narrowed his eyes, but Weir continued before he could say anything.

"We have to consider it, John. If we can't rely on Rodney to do his job, he might be a liability. As much as we need him on Atlantis, there are other scientists who can step up to the plate. I admit that he's probably the best man we have, but if he continues with this kind of one-track mentality, these kind of incidents, we're not going to survive his experiments, let alone the Wraith."

John didn't reply, but he nodded his head slightly, enough for her to know that he was following her, listening carefully to her words.

"Step back and look at the whole situation," she continued, her voice firming up as the words formed. "This is an entirely different job than I agreed to. We were supposed to be exploring a new galaxy, making allies and discovering the great secrets of the Ancients. Instead, we're fighting a war. There's no room for personal quests and I don't think there's a doubt in either of our minds that Rodney was focused. Not on the benefits this technology could have brought to Atlantis, but on what kind of acclaim it would have brought him personally."

She took another breath, her eyes holding John's steadily as she leaned forward, her elbows on her desk, her hands clasped in front of her. "We should know in a month if he's up for the job he signed on for."

***

The insistent beeping of his headset pulled Rodney out of the half-sleep state he'd fallen into, his arm thrown across his eyes as the damp ocean air swept over the bed and through the room.

Rolling to his feet with a groan, he hissed as the muscles in his back complained. He stumbled across the room in his sock-clad feet, grabbing the headset and jamming it in place.

"McKay."

"Oh, there ye are, Rodney," Doctor Carson Beckett replied. "I need you to report to the infirmary for your post-mission check. It seems as if it may have slipped your mind."

"Fine," he said, shaking his head as he moved to close the balcony door. "Give me a few minutes."

"Aye. And no gettin' sidetracked."

"Trust me, I don't think that's going to be a problem. McKay out."

Wonderful, he thought. As if being locked in his room wasn't enough, now he was going to be poked and prodded by the good doctor and resident sheep shearer.

Turning his radio off, he sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced around the room. He spotted his uniform jacket lying in a heap near the bathroom door, still in the same place he'd thrown it an hour ago.

Staring at pile of rumpled material, he realized that he didn't feel like wearing it, didn't feel like wearing anything he had on. And besides, he was off duty as Elizabeth had so plainly reminded him.

Moving quickly to his closet, he stripped off his shirt and threw it in the same general direction as the uniform jacket as he dug into the closet, his fingers finding the pile of T-shirts on the back shelf. He pulled the top one off, shrugging it on quickly, checking to make sure he had the blue Atari logo in the front.

His pants came off next, landing in the same pile as his other clothes. He grabbed for his jeans, shoving several pairs of his uniform pants out of the way to reach them. He slid his legs in, the cool, thick fabric warming immediately against his skin.

He leaned down, looking for his sneakers. Snagging them, he moved back to the bed, sitting down to get his old familiar footwear in place.

His casual clothes felt good. Rodney couldn't remember the last time he'd worn them. It had been too long. There had been a time in his life that jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers were all he wore. It was a simpler time. Less stress, less chance of dying in some freak, horror-show way.

Maybe it was time to go back.

Shrugging off the thought, he headed for the door, unlocking it with a quick command. It slid open before him, but even before he took a single step outside of his quarters a voice stopped him.

"Doctor McKay? Where are you going?"

Turning, he came face-to-face with Major Lorne. Rodney wasn't sure who was more surprised by this turn of events: him or the Major.

"Are you loitering outside my quarters?" Arrogant and condescending all wrapped up in a single question.

"I don't think Colonel Sheppard or Doctor Weir would consider guard duty loitering, Doctor," Lorne replied, a slightly sheepish expression on his face as he continued. "Were you going somewhere?"

"Carson asked me to go to the infirmary for my post-mission check up. Is that a problem?"

"One second, Doctor, and I'll find out." He turned, tapping his radio. He spoke quickly and quietly, the conversation taking no longer than thirty seconds. Swinging back around, Lorne offered a smile. "If you'll accompany me, we'll be in the infirmary shortly."

"I know how to get there, Major," Rodney replied, the words pushed past his tightly clenched jaw, his muscles rock hard. He could feel knots forming in his shoulders. 

"I know you do, but I'm under orders, as are you I imagine. Just consider this part of the service."

Gritting his teeth, Rodney nodded and gestured for Lorne to lead. Following a half-step behind, Rodney could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. This was humiliating. He kept his head down, his eyes watching his feet as they walked through the corridors, the Major greeting many of the people they encountered along the way.

Could this get any worse? He wasn't sure how, but as soon as that question entered his mind, he knew somehow, someway it would.

The door to the infirmary slid open and Lorne paused just inside the door, waiting as Rodney stepped through. "I'll wait here until you're done."

"Fine," he replied, waving off the other man with an absent gesture of his hand. Maneuvering through the quiet room, Rodney found Carson at his desk, sipping at a mug of tea.

Clearing his throat to get the other man's attention, McKay offered a weak smile when his friend raised his head. "You were looking for me?"

"Aye, Rodney," Carson answered, putting his mug down gently as he rose to his feet. "I wasn't expecting you so quickly."

McKay shrugged his shoulders. "Figured it would be easier than having you haunt me."

Beckett moved briskly past him, leading him to an exam bed. Patting it with his hand, he continued walking. "Sit up here. I'll be right back."

Watching the back of his departing friend, he settled onto the bed Carson indicated, his right hand drumming a steady beat on his leg. A few minutes passed before the Scotsman returned. Throwing a glance over his shoulder as he got closer, Beckett turned his puzzled look on McKay, his eyes widening when he finally looked at him.

"What's with the clothes and your friend by the door?"

"The last time I checked I was allowed to wear clothes other than my uniform when I'm off duty," he snapped as Beckett got to work. Shoving up his sleeve, Carson quickly pulled the tourniquet tight against Rodney's arm, tapping the inside of his elbow to get the veins to come to the surface. "You do own jeans, don't you? I've seen you in enough of those hideous sweaters to know that you did bring some casual clothes to Atlantis."

Rodney flinched as the needle pierced his skin and Carson quickly filled two vials with blood. Gauze replaced the needle and McKay held it without being asked. He'd been through this too many times to complain—although that didn't necessarily stop him normally. "You might best remember who has the big needles, Rodney," Carson commented as he deposited the vials on the nearby tray. "And Major Lorne just decided that you needed company?"

"Can you just drop the game of twenty questions, Carson, and get this over with? I'd like to go back to relaxing sooner rather than later."

Beckett raised an eyebrow at the comment, throwing a puzzled look at the other man, but nodded in agreement. The rest of the examination was done quickly and in silence—much to McKay's surprise and relief.

Fifteen minutes later, he was hopping off the exam table and heading for the door. He could feel Carson's eyes on his back, but he refused to turn around. He didn't want to see the confusion or the pity in his friend's eyes. That was the last thing he needed or wanted.

***

Moving easily through the dimly lit and silent corridors, Carson Beckett smiled slightly to himself. It wasn't very late, but it was far enough into the evening that most people were already where they were going to be for the rest of the night. He'd passed the science labs a little while before and he'd spotted Zelenka hunched over a laptop, while one or two others were packing up to head out.

He'd kept moving, not seeing McKay anywhere in the science area, and not willing to bother an obviously busy Radek.

It wasn't as if he were _looking_ for Rodney. He really wasn't. Between him and John and then Major Lorne's obvious presence during the physicist's post-mission check, Carson was certain something had happened.

And if Rodney wasn't in the labs, then he had to be in the mess or in his quarters, but something made him hesitate from going to either location. What was he going to say anyway? The whole 'something weird is going on and I think you need to tell me about it' only got him so far. And besides, they were in another galaxy, for Pete's sake. Everything here was weird.

It had been several hours since he'd seen either of them—and no one was talking, which was odd in itself. Usually, he got updates about missions and things, just from conversations with the people who dropped by.

But not today.

Surprising himself, Carson discovered that he'd walked to the gate room, his feet slowly taking him up the stairs toward the control room. The second shift was in place and he smiled at them as he passed through toward the low-lit office at the end of the room where he could still see a figure seated behind the desk.

Slowing as he reached the door, he watched her for a minute, her forehead creased in concentration as she studied the laptop screen before her.

He tapped quietly, trying not to startle her. "You know, looking at computer screens all day is bad for your eyes, lass," he said, keeping his tone light as he caught the tension in Weir's frame.

She glanced up, her eyes wide. Elizabeth was jumpier than normal tonight. "Carson," she finally said with a light smile—the expression obviously forced. She settled the tablet to the side and gestured to him to enter her office. "I didn't hear you."

"Obviously," he replied pinning her with a glance for a moment before she turned her eyes away. Sliding into the nearest chair, he tilted his head, trying to catch her eye again. Instead of ignoring him, however as he thought she would, Elizabeth straightened in her chair, her jaw tightening, her eyes narrowing as she returned the look with equal weight, examining him carefully.

"You wanted something?" she asked finally, her voice stern, clipped.

"Yes, but are you okay, lass?"

"I'm fine, it's just been a long day and I should really head back to my quarters." She began to lean forward, her hands reaching for the papers scattered over her desk. "Can this wait until the morning?"

"Depends," he replied and stilled immediately, the iris of her eyes darkening. He plunged on even though his better judgment told him to back off. "There seems to be a problem with Colonel Sheppard and Rodney. They're not acting like themselves."

Weir replied, rising to her feet, her voice cold. "That particular conversation is best left to another time."

"Why?" Carson said as he stood, his confusion blending with anger and heating his words. "Are you uncomfortable with the topic or is it some deep, dark secret? Having Major Lorne follow Rodney around isn't exactly subtle."

He waited, letting the question sit between them, watching Elizabeth carefully. She was trying to control her temper and it surprised him. For as long as he'd worked with her on the Atlantis project, Elizabeth was the only one who rarely, if ever, lost her temper. Maybe that was due to her training as a diplomat. And with all the different nationalities and people involved in this project, they needed people who could keep their heads.

Usually, Elizabeth was the voice of reason, but something had worked its way under her skin and it had to do with John and Rodney. What the hell had they done this time?

She took a breath, as if the additional oxygen would steady her. "Doctor McKay has been relieved of duty for the next week and is restricted to the base for a month due to his actions on Doranda. We're hoping that this situation will be temporary."

"We?"

"Colonel Sheppard and I."

"So, what does this mean exactly? Rodney's not military."

"Everything's been explained to him. He knows what he can and cannot do."

"And Major Lorne is around to make sure Rodney follows your orders to the letter? Whose brilliant idea was this?"

Weir's eyes flashed an angry warning and he knew he'd gone too far. "This is not up for discussion."

The muscles in Carson's back immediately tightened as he straightened in surprise, his own temper rising quickly to the surface. "Fine," he replied tightly. "I'm nae gonna say a word about it. But, whatever you're hoping to accomplish with this piss poor example you're making of Rodney is not going to work. This is not the way to prove a point to him or to his staff. It just shows them that you're hurt and you're angry. This'll come to a bad end. "

"Your concern is noted, Carson, but we're going to do this my way. I guess we'll see what happens in a month."

"This isn't a game, Elizabeth. We're talking about Rodney—"

"Yes, we are. And right now he needs to understand exactly what his responsibilities to this expedition entail. Playing hardball is the only way to get through to him."

"So you say," Beckett replied, shaking his head as his anger drained from his body as he discovered how unmovable she was on the topic. Arguing right now would not get him anywhere and might only get Rodney into more trouble. "But don't be surprised if you discover him to be a very different person than you think he is."

He turned, moving to the door and into the control room beyond. A few steps into the corridor and he turned around, walking back to her office, pausing in the doorway. "Do me one favor," he began once he caught her eyes. "Think about it carefully tonight and if you have doubts, any doubts, please change your mind. My mother always reminded me that the wrong decisions make themselves known in the wee hours of the night. Give Rodney the benefit of the doubt. That’s all I ask."

Elizabeth nodded once, some of her own anger draining away only to be replaced by a deep weariness. "Good night, Carson."

"Night, lassie, and get some sleep. Things always look better in the morning."

***

**_Day One_ **

Shifting for the tenth time on slightly numb feet, Major Evan Lorne shoved back his sleeve and glanced at his watch. It was 0910 and there had been no sign of Doctor McKay in about fourteen hours. After his exam in the infirmary, Lorne had tried to convince the doctor to get some dinner, but he'd refused, claiming not to be hungry. They'd argued for a while, standing in the middle of the hallway, until McKay finally relented, agreeing to let Lorne procure a handful of PowerBars and a few bottles of water.

Having the doctor die on him because he hadn't eaten anything wouldn't look good on his record. He was supposed to make sure he didn't sneak out to the labs, not starve him to death.

When Lorne relieved Captain Andrews at 0700 the man reported that it had been a quiet night, the ten hours passing easily.

It was odd that McKay hadn't surfaced.

When another twenty minutes passed without the doctor poking his head out the door, Lorne thought it might be time to get a bed check. There was a balcony attached to the room and he doubted McKay was desperate enough to try to escape via that route. Although, a part of his brain could picture McKay tying the sheets together, securing one end to a girder before throwing the free end over the railing so he could sneak into the lower level.

He was a genius after all—or so he told everyone.

A check might be a good thing.

Turning to the door, he waved his hand in front of the door panel, hearing the answering chime inside the room. A minute or so later he tried again, following it up with a knock.

With visions of the scientist dangling from one of Atlantis' balconies in his mind, he knocked again—harder—when no answer was forthcoming.

With a sigh, he triggered the door to open with a quick mental command, the panel sliding upon to reveal the dimly lit room beyond. There was no sign of McKay and the door leading to the balcony was open.

Double crap.

Entering slowly, Lorne glanced around, his eyes trying to see into the shadows. "Doctor McKay?" He resisted the urge to add 'come out, come out, wherever you are' in a singsong voice. His mind, though, had no such compunction.

His eyes slid past the open door of the attached bathroom and, finding it clear, continued on. Moving past the rumpled bed—sheets still in place, but obviously slept in—he crossed to the balcony door.

Slumped in the corner, Lorne found McKay—his back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest with his arms curled around them, tugging them close to his body, his eyes fixed on the horizon beyond.

"Doctor McKay?" Lorne asked, his eyebrows drawing together. When he didn't get a response, he moved closer, noticing that the doctor was still dressed in his clothes from the night before, minus his sneakers and socks. Kneeling beside the scientist, he reached out slowly, resting his hand lightly on McKay's cool arm. "Doctor McKay?"

It took a few seconds before the physicist responded, slowly coming back to the here and now. He turned his head, his blue eyes bloodshot and clearly confused. "Major?" he began, his voice low and gravelly. He cleared his throat, but it didn't help much. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, obviously," Lorne replied, feeling the man shiver slightly. "How long have you been out here?"

McKay shrugged, turning back to the ocean and the city below. "I watched the sun come up. I was having problems sleeping. Nothing new."

A few beats passed before Lorne spoke up again. "Did you have breakfast?"

"Why?" he asked, turning back to face Lorne, an expression of exasperation firmly etched on his face. "Are you trying to ask me out or something? Cause if that's the case, I don't want to know anything and I suggest you get out of my room."

"McKay," Lorne replied, sighing as he rose to his feet. "You look like shit and I know you didn't eat a real dinner yesterday. Andrews said you didn't ask him for anything during the night. Now, I didn't see a camp stove in your quarters or the remnants of anything that resembled breakfast and I know what happens when your blood sugar drops too low. I have no intention of telling Colonel Sheppard or Doctor Weir that you accidentally passed out because you didn't eat. Now," he continued, reaching down to grab the other man's arm and hoist him to his feet. "I recommend that you get in the shower and get some clean clothes on so you can go and get yourself something to eat."

The scientist grumbled to himself and Lorne decided to ignore the few choice words he caught. "Shower. Now," he said, steering McKay into his quarters. The scientist shook him off, heading to the closet where he retrieved some new clothes before moving to the bathroom where he shut the door behind him. A few seconds later, Lorne could hear the water running.

That was far easier than it should have been, Lorne realized as he leaned against the balcony door, his eyes drifting to the scenery outside. The fact that McKay had capitulated so quickly was odd, but then this whole situation was not exactly normal. Shaking his head, Lorne moved away from the wall and back to his post outside. He'd wait for the scientist there.

***

Stumbling out of the shower, McKay wrapped a towel around his middle and moved toward the sink, the floor cool against his wet feet. Leaning over the counter, he rubbed a hand over the mirror, trying to get some of the condensation off so he could get a look at himself.

Even blurry, Lorne was right. He looked like crap. He was pale, the dark circles under his eyes standing out more than usual. And his stubble gave him a certain unkempt look.

Deciding that he didn't have the energy to shave, he turned away from the mirror, reaching instead for his toothbrush and toothpaste. Moving through his morning routine quickly, he found himself reaching for the clothes he'd brought into the bathroom, his brain finally connecting to what his fingertips were telling him. In his haste he'd grabbed his uniform from the closet.

He sighed, rolling his eyes ceiling-ward as he debated whether it was worth the time and effort to get something else to wear. These were perfectly good clothes. There was nothing wrong with them. But after yesterday…

Screw it. If they had a problem with him wearing his uniform when he was off duty, they could take his clothes and shove them somewhere the sun didn't shine.

After sliding into his boxers, he shoved his legs into his pants, the shirt and jacket quickly following. Padding into his room in bare feet, Rodney dug through his closet finally locating a lone pair of socks, thankfully ones without holes. The Ancient version of the washer and dryer kept eating his good socks whole and giving him back the ones they nibbled on.

Glancing around as he dropped onto his unmade bed, he noticed that Major Lorne had snuck out. Best not to let them think he was conversing with the criminal. Pulling on his socks, he finally spotted his shoes lying in a heap on the other side of the room.

Dragging himself upright again, he slid in his sock-clad feet, almost ending up on his ass. That would have made one hell of a bruise. Moving a little slower, he picked up his boots and settled into his desk chair, his eyes flicking over his inbox, the unsent email in his "drafts" folder.

Turning, his shoes forgotten for the moment, he opened the email document, reading over the words he'd written in the middle of the night. Making a quick decision, he clicked 'send' before he could chicken out. He knew he had to start somewhere with the apologies and, honestly, this email to Colonel Caldwell was probably going to be the easiest one of the lot.

Swiveling in his chair, he grabbed his boots, pushing his feet into them and lacing them up tightly. Moving to the door, he paused, glancing around his room. He'd clean when he got back. It would give him something to do.

***

Major Lorne turned as the door opened behind him and watched as a hesitant McKay poked his head out.

"Am I allowed out?"

"For meals, yes."

"Oh," McKay replied, his face falling a little. "I wanted to make two quick stops before we went to the mess hall."

Lorne tried not to sigh. He knew this was going to come sooner or later. He was hoping it would be later rather than sooner. "Where?"

"The labs and the control room."

"McKay, you know that they're—"

Rodney raised his hands, stopping Lorne before he could continue. "Look, I know I'm not allowed out of my room until next week, but before I go stir crazy I'd like to talk to Zelenka, Elizabeth, and Sheppard for a few minutes." As Lorne opened his mouth to argue, Rodney continued. "It'll take five minutes, I swear. You can drag me out if I'm any longer. I just want the opportunity to apologize before any more time passes. And besides, I don't know if I'll have the nerve if I wait any longer."

Rodney paused, tilting his head to the side a little as he widened his blue eyes slightly. "Deal?"

Lorne looked away, trying not to sigh in the doctor's face. He tuned back a minute later, resignation in his voice. "Where to first?"

***

Typing quickly, Doctor Radek Zelenka finished an email before turning to one of the scientists hovering behind him. Between the staff meetings and all the currently projects, he couldn’t get anything done. He had no idea how McKay could do everything and his own research projects and off-world missions. The man must never sleep—but then, he knew that already.

And then McKay had to go and do this, he thought, as his mind went through everything that still had to be done today. He didn't have time for the physicist's ego, but that's what got them both in this mess. It was because of him that Collins was dead and Radek had been insulted in front of the entire control room staff. Not that it didn't happen on a regular basis—the insults, that is. But this had been different. Radek knew he was right.

From that one moment it was obvious to him and the entire science staff that McKay didn't trust any of them. And that was the worst part of this whole situation—his apparent lack of trust for the entire science department. What were they doing then, if Rodney would only listen to Rodney? Radek had read all the files. He knew the entire department—probably even better than Rodney. These people were brilliant in their fields, but McKay refused to see that, to trust them.

Maybe now something would change.

Radek sighed to himself, shaking off the thought. He knew it was more wishful thinking than reality. McKay was not about to shed his skin and change. That was too much to hope for.

"And you are still standing here. Did you not understand instructions?" he griped, pushing his glasses back in place as he eyeballed the scientist beside him, clutching the pile of reports to his chest.

"I just was hoping you could help—"

Zelenka rose, waving his hand absently as he reached for his tablet. There were several experiments—and scientists—he had to check on before they accidentally blew up the lab again. "Ask Matthews. He's good with thermodynamics."

Not hearing any other protests, he started to move off but another voice stopped him dead in his tracks. One he had been assured he wouldn't hear for a week.

"Matthews is a good choice."

Zelenka turned, first catching the look of complete surprise on the other man's face, before discovering McKay and Major Lorne in the lab.

"Rodney," he said after a few beats had passed, trying unsuccessfully to remove his own surprised expression from his face. "Why are you here? Did not Doctor Weir…"

McKay nodded, waving his hand. "Yes, yes." He glanced over his shoulder and Lorne made a point of looking at his watch. "Look, I don't have much time. Can we talk somewhere a little less…public?"

Raising an eyebrow, Radek nodded, moving toward McKay's small office that was attached to the main lab. It was close and no one else would dare go in there.

"Actually," McKay said loudly, making Radek stop and turn around. He'd stopped in the middle of the lab, an uncertain expression on his face. "I came here to apologize to you," he continued, his voice carrying throughout the room. Several heads snapped up, their eyes focusing on McKay.

"Rodney?" Radek asked, his eyebrow on the rise.

"This is something you should all hear," Rodney said, his eyes flickering around the room, refusing to land anywhere for more than a second. "When it came to the incident on Doranda, I should have listened to you, Radek. I'm sorry if I was condescending and arrogant. It was uncalled for."

Silence echoed throughout the main lab, lasting for several seconds before Rodney cleared his throat, his face beginning to turn red. "Radek," he said, gesturing to the room Zelenka had been heading to before he'd decided to make his apology public.

"Of course," Radek replied, turning back to the office, his mind refusing to believe what he just heard. This could not have come from the man who threw out insults as a matter of course.

"Two minutes," Lorne commented, making Radek glance over his shoulder to the other man. Rodney nodded to the major, but didn't stop moving. In fact, it seemed like he was speeding up.

Once they entered the small office, Zelenka turned, leaning back against the desk. "You did not have to do that," he said, watching as the other man refused to stand still, shifting from one foot to the other, his eyes darting around the room.

"Yes, I did. And it had to be in public."

"Why?" Radek asked, the first words that came to mind falling out of his mouth. "Did you need the entire staff to see that you aren't the arrogant bastard they say you are?" As Rodney's face paled, he realized how harsh that sounded—especially in light of the words McKay had spoken only moments before. He was astonished by his own anger toward the man, his own callousness. Sometimes he felt like he was becoming just like him—and he needed to stop that from happening. "I'm…" he began, only to be cut off by McKay.

"No, no. I deserved that," he said, finally coming to a stop, his arms resting quietly at his sides. "I wasn't grandstanding out there. I figured that since I insulted you in public it was the least I could do to apologize in public." McKay paused again, his eyes dropping to the floor, his shoulders forming a half shrug. "I can't guarantee that it won't happen again, but I wanted to say I was sorry."

Radek nodded slowly, words refusing to cooperate. He knew he should say something, thank him at the very least, but part of him couldn't. He wasn't ready to forgive and forget. It was going to take time, more than McKay probably realized.

"I think your time is up," he said instead, seeing a shadow grow into the form of Major Lorne.

McKay glanced over his shoulder, letting out a long breath. "And so it is." He moved slowly toward the door, his shoulders more rounded than they'd been when he'd entered. McKay and Lorne silently meandered their way through the maze of desks and scientific instruments to the corridor, vanishing through the door a moment later.

Standing alone in the small office for several moments, Radek sighed and pulled off his glasses, rubbing his face. After delicately placing them back on his nose, he shoved himself off the desk and entered the main lab where most of the scientists were still standing around, their jaws still slack with shock.

Clapping his hands, he glared at them. "There is work to be done, is there not? This is not time for day dreaming," he said as the science staff scurried to get back to work.

Zelenka aimed toward the wing of smaller labs. He had rounds to make, experiments to check, scientists to coddle. Apologies and second thoughts would have to wait.

***

Walking silently through the corridors on the way to the control room, Major Lorne couldn't help but keep glancing at the subdued physicist beside him. Of all the things he expected, the public apology hadn't been anywhere near the top of his list.

That took guts.

Generally, McKay avoided anything that could make him look bad, that showed any kind of weakness, and showed him to be human. While it hadn't been perfect—a little too much honestly thrown in there for that—it had been heartfelt. But then there were some people who would argue about him having a heart in the first place.

While McKay knew how to get the job done, guts were not something that Lorne thought the man had in abundance. In fact, given the opportunity to weigh in on the subject, guts would never even come to mind. Whining, complaining, arrogant, condescending, and stubborn were closer to the truth.

Today, Lorne had seen a different side of the doctor and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"I'd like to talk to Colonel Sheppard if I can find him," McKay said quietly, pulling Lorne back to the present.

He nodded. "If he's not in the control room, I'll try to find him for you."

"Thank you."

Lorne nodded again, letting the silence stretch between them. What else could he say?

***

Taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee, Elizabeth Weir tapped her stylus against her tablet PC. She'd not gotten much sleep last night, refusing to take one of the little pills Carson had prescribed a few months ago. She hated having to rely on drugs for a good night's sleep.

And honestly, she didn't think they would have helped. She was too wound up, her mind moving in a million directions at the same time, threatening to pull her along.

Sleep had come, sparingly and slowly, but it had been welcome when it finally arrived, the darkness smothering her thoughts, her anger, her hurt.

A letter had to be written, one more to add to the pile. One more of her expedition gone. One more person who would never go home. One more family missing a loved one.

She raised her head as she heard the knock on her door, fully expecting to see the lead botanist standing in the doorway. They had a meeting scheduled to go over some of the reports from the past few weeks.

Instead, it was Rodney McKay.

A flash of surprise followed by anger crossed her face before she could control her features once again. "Doctor McKay, I thought I been clear about your status this week."

His features faltered, his eyes dropping to his hands. "You were." He paused, raising his head to meet her gaze. "I wanted to apologize in person. My actions were both unprofessional and uncalled for. Because of my…shortsightedness we lost a very good scientist. I know there's nothing I can do to bring him back, but I guarantee that I will do everything within my power to never let anything like this happen again."

Placing her mug carefully on her desk, away from her computer and any paperwork, Elizabeth leaned her elbows on the surface, her hands clasped together before her. "While I appreciate the obvious effort it has taken you to come here, I honestly find it…difficult to believe that you can guarantee anything like this from occurring again."

McKay nodded, his eyes still fixed on her. "I understand how you must feel. But you also have to realize that I am… _painfully_ aware of the lives that were lost, or that might have been lost, if it were not for Colonel Caldwell's appearance."

"That's when hindsight comes into play, isn't it?"

"Yes," he replied, his feet becoming more interesting once again. "I know you have other things to do and I shouldn't be here, but thank you for not throwing me out on sight. Again, I'm sorry, Elizabeth."

Turning quickly, he moved off, Major Lorne offering her a sharp nod before he followed McKay through the control room and down the stairs. Her eyes caught sight of Carolyn Edwards, her ten o'clock appointment. Time to get back to business.

***

Major Lorne leaned against one of the railings in the control room as Doctor McKay slowly made his way to Weir's office. He figured the other man would prefer a little privacy for his apology. He had five minutes, just like he'd had with Doctor Zelenka, and Lorne didn't think it would take that long. From the word on the street, she was still pretty ticked off about the whole situation.

The technician had said that Colonel Sheppard had been up here this morning for the department heads briefing, but that had been a few hours ago. He'd asked the man to pass along a message if the Colonel stopped by and the Sergeant had agreed. Lorne, though, decided to locate Sheppard over the radio. He had to report in anyway.

"Lorne to Sheppard."

Gazing down over the gateroom, he let his eyes wander over everything, still amazed by what was here. People moved briskly through the wide-open space, papers or computers in hand, but when they reached the center of the room, they all looked up, their eyes caressing the gate and the room. There was just something about this place, about being here, that was still so unbelievable.

"Lorne, this is Sheppard. There a problem?"

"No, sir. Reporting in to let you know that things are quiet. Also, Doctor McKay would like to speak with you when you have a moment."

Silence filled the link for a moment and Lorne nearly clicked the radio to check the connection, but Sheppard's voice came back, the tone colder than it had been only a moment ago. "I'll keep that in mind, Major. I have a number of things to take care of today."

"I understand, but I told the Doctor I would try to get hold of you."

"Consider your promise fulfilled. I'll see if I can stop by later today."

"Yes, sir," Lorne replied, turning back to glance at Weir's office. McKay was turning to walk out. Less than five minutes. "I'll let him know."

"Good. Anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Okay. Sheppard out."

Lorne shook his head, holding back a sigh. Apparently, no one was going to make it easy for McKay today. God only knows what the rumor mill had dug up and spit out since yesterday. A minute later McKay was at his side, his mouth pulled down in a frown, his face white. "All done?"

The other man nodded sharply, refusing to meet his gaze. "Could you get Sheppard?"

Lorne shook his head. "He's in meetings most of the day. He said he'd try to stop by later."

McKay snorted, rolling his eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "That's the nice way of saying he doesn't want to talk to me. Fine. Can we get breakfast?"

"Of course. Isn't that where we started going this morning before you pulled us off on our little field trip?" Lorne asked, acknowledging Weir's gaze with a quick nod before they started down the stairs.

"Honestly, I think I probably got you in trouble for letting me go on our 'little field trip'," McKay commented, his words clipped but without the usual venom.

Lorne shrugged. "I can deal with it. And, besides, I wasn't told you couldn't apologize to anyone. But, I think if it had taken any longer we both would have gotten our asses in a sling."

"Oh, and isn't that an image to remember," McKay said, shaking his head. "I think I might be blind for life."

Chuckling, Lorne glanced sideways but the scientist refused to look up, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor in front of his feet. They settled into an uneasy silence as they made their way through the busier hallways leading to the mess hall. As soon as they turned inside, Lorne paused, finally making McKay look up at the other man.

"You invite me to breakfast and now you won't come in?"

"I ate earlier. Go and get some food. I'll wait here. Or would you rather have me hovering over your shoulder?"

"God forbid," McKay sighed. Looking a little uncertain, he wiggled his fingers and continued, "So, when I'm done should I….you know, just meet you…here? I've never had to do this before."

Lorne nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. "I'm not going anywhere and if you try to sneak away I'll be sure to find you, so don't get any ideas."

McKay's bloodshot eyes widened and he took a step back. "I wasn't…"

Lorne reached out to grab him before he backed into a nearby chair. "I was kidding, McKay. Go and get some food before you pass out."

"Funny," he scowled, shaking off the Major's hand. "This shouldn’t take long."

Lorne sighed and shook his head as the scientist headed for the line. It was strange to observe like this, watching the person he was in charge of and how everyone else reacted. He'd been trying to get McKay to lighten up a little, but he must have felt the weird shift in the air as soon as they'd walked in. These people were not happy to have the physicist here. The hovering military escort would just make matters worse. It was bad enough that he had to stand at the door.

The rumor mill was apparently working very well these days.

He watched as people's eyes followed McKay, as the whispers began anew when he passed by. Outwardly, it looked like the physicist didn't notice, but Lorne could tell he did. It was the little things that gave it away. The muscles in McKay's back tightened with each step, his posture straightened minutely, his hands shaking a little as he reached for the tray.

You'd miss these signs if you weren't looking for them.

Concentrating on the people in the room, Lorne saw them staring, ducking their heads to converse quietly, their rushed, hushed voices carrying further than they thought. The Airman on KP duty tried to school his features, but the contempt was there in the way he looked at McKay, in the tone of his voice, in the way he slapped the food on the plate McKay held out, letting it splatter against the scientist's sleeve.

Instead of complaining like he normally would, McKay moved away without a word, his mouth a thin line as he made his way to the coffeepot, finding only the barest remains of liquid. Glancing toward the airman, McKay visibly sighed before putting the glass pot back and grabbing a bottle of water.

He moved to a table in the far corner, slumping into the chair. McKay began to eat, his head down, the act mainly mechanical without the enjoyment Lorne normally associated with the scientist.

It seemed as if a few of the louder whispers reached McKay's ears and he froze, obviously hearing something Lorne could not. He didn’t think it possible, but the doctor's head dropped even further and he began pushing the eggs and bacon around on his plate.

Everything about this made Lorne's blood boil. If it continued, he was going to have to say something to Colonel Sheppard and Doctor Weir. This was uncalled for. This was unprofessional. Whatever issues they had with McKay were just that—between them and the doctor. There was no need for the entire base to get involved.

There had to be a better way than this to get a point across.

***

Apparently, "humiliate McKay" was on Lorne's "to do" list for today.

Pushing the food around on his plate, pretending like he actually felt like eating, that he could get the cold food past the lump in his throat, Rodney McKay tried not to listen to the words flying around the mess hall.

They were hard to ignore.

"…arrogant…"

"…the gall he had yelling at Doctor Weir…"

"…deserves everything he gets…"

"…about time they did something about the bastard…"

"…Doctor Zelenka has the labs running so smoothly…"

"…so much easier without him there, yelling and ranting…"

He knew this was a bad idea as soon as Lorne had mentioned it. He should have said no immediately instead of agreeing to be dragged to this farce masquerading as breakfast. But he'd been tired and hungry and he'd agreed, thinking Atlantis would be different from every other place he'd been.

He'd been wrong.

It was all the same. Every time he got comfortable, every time he felt like he belonged, he did something to screw it up. Why was it that when he finally found a place where he felt like he belonged, he had to go and ruin it? He'd turned the people he'd trusted, even become friends with, against him. It would be a very long time before things got back to normal—if they ever did.

There had to be a way to make things right, to make things better. He didn't want to leave Atlantis, but he knew when push came to shove, and if Elizabeth and Sheppard thought he was a liability, they'd be sure he was part of the next group of people transferred back to the SGC—out of their hair and their lives.

He liked Atlantis.

And he cared about what happened to her and the people in the city.

That was what it all boiled down to, why this punishment hurt so much. Atlantis and its inhabitants had gotten under his skin. He wanted things to go well. He wanted to be a part of bringing this awesome city back to life. Everything he learned made him want to learn more, do more. And the more he grew in tune with the city, the easier the mental commands came to him, the easier it was to interface with the controls, to make them do what he needed them to. It was addictive. Just the thought of losing that…it was more devastating than he wanted to consider.

Here, he made a difference, he was useful—at least he thought he was.

He was good at fixing things, always had been. His sister, while generally avoiding him at all costs when they were growing up, always brought stuff to him to repair—and he did so, easily and with little complaint.

He could fix this; he knew he could. It would take time, but right now, he had all the time in the world.

Abruptly rising to his feet, he brought his tray back to the counter, dumping most of its contents into the trash. Spying a small stack of paper bags in the corner, he grabbed one and opened it as he moved to the counter where the non-perishable and take-away foods were kept. He shoved in several PowerBars, followed by two Granny Smith apples. There were some granola bars, of which he grabbed two, and a few packages of cookies.

After snagging another bottle of water, he headed for the door where Lorne was lounging. McKay could feel all the eyes on him, watching him, but he ignored them. Not like he could do anything to make them go away, and any kind of comment would just make it twice as bad when he came back—as if he was. Meals in his room were looking like a better option.

Lorne eyed him as he approached, raising an eyebrow as he got to his feet. "Done already?"

"Yes, you could say that. And, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to go back to my quarters now."

The major nodded, gesturing for McKay to lead the way. At least then he'd be away from everyone's prying eyes. There he'd be able to plan what he'd do next, once his imprisonment was over. There had to be some way he could make it up to everyone.

He was a genius. He'd find one.

***

Moving gracefully, Ronon circled Sheppard on the exercise mat, his hands held up, his eyes watching for any twitch, any subtle movement that would indicate the other man was about to strike.

They'd been sparring for the past thirty minutes and a light sheen had grown on the exposed skin of both men, the sweat sometimes dripping into their eyes, stinging, but not enough for either to take their mind off the fight.

Sheppard was hitting harder than normal, more aggressive, which Ronon didn't mind. There weren't many people on the base he could really fight with except Teyla and Sheppard, but he still tended to hold back. Accidentally damaging your teammates was generally not good.

Today, though, there was a distance in Sheppard's eyes and Ronon knew that the other man was fighting something other than the Satedan.

"What did McKay do?" he asked abruptly, the other man's eyes widening, his step faltering a little before he quickly recovered.

"What makes you think he did something?" Sheppard asked, throwing several punches that Ronon blocked, countering with several of his own.

"They way you're acting."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow, but didn't answer, continuing to move forward as he balanced on the balls of his feet.

"Everyone's talking about it."

"Then, if everyone's talking, you don't need to hear it again from me," Sheppard replied, sounding winded. "And we talked about the mission at breakfast."

"But you still didn't answer my question." Ronon lowered his hands and took a step back, indicating a pause to their match. "What did McKay do?"

"Why are you so damn insistent?" Sheppard asked, moving to the bench on the side of the room, grabbing a plastic bottle from his pack and taking a long pull of the cool water. Digging inside the bag again, he dragged out a towel, rubbing his face briskly before throwing it around his shoulders.

Ronon moved to his own supplies, nearly finishing his bottle of water in one long gulp. Toweling off his face and upper body, he turned back to the other man. "You're different."

"Different?"

"Strange."

"Strange?"

"You're not acting like yourself."

"So, you're the expert on how I'm acting these days?"

"No. I'm just commenting," Ronon said, looking at the visibly agitated man before him. He gestured to the exercise mat with his chin. "You weren't fighting me out there."

"Who do you think I was sparring with? I didn't see anyone else in here. Did you?" Sheppard snapped, refusing to meet Ronon's eyes.

The Satedan shook his head. "I don't get it, Sheppard. Something obviously happened yesterday."

"Maybe it's none of your damn business," he said, shoving his water bottle back in his bag as he headed for the door.

"If you have a problem with McKay it _is_ my business."

"Might not be for long. I'm fine. Just leave it alone."

Sheppard stormed out the door, leaving Ronon standing in the exercise room. He shook his head, still confused by the man's behavior and his loss of a sparring partner. Sheppard never left in the middle of one of their sessions unless there was an emergency. Seemed like he'd hit a nerve.

***

Major Lorne could be a bastard when he wants to, Rodney thought, as he stormed back from the mess hall for the third time today. As if breakfast wasn't enough, Lorne had dragged him back down in the middle of the afternoon just when he'd been up to one hundred and forty-two wins at solitaire.

Then the man had insisted on going again now, before his shift was over. What, did the Major think it was fun to watch everyone skewer him with evil, hate-filled glances? Did he like hearing all the derogatory things everyone couldn't keep to themselves?

Dinner had been no different, although this time the behemoth also known as Second Lieutenant Holden Clark insisted that he 'put his boots on and move' before he was 'dragged there in his bare feet'.

He hated the military mindset sometimes. Their little minds were only good when you needed them to follow directions.

Tell them to 'go shoot that Wraith drone so the scientist lives,' and they walk off happy to be able to do something useful and play with their toys. If it involves explosions, they comply even faster.

"Doctor McKay," Clark called to him, his muscle-clad body too heavy to drag after the quickly moving scientist. "Wait up."

"I know how to get back to my quarters, lieutenant," McKay yelled back, refusing to pause. Besides, he could have sworn he'd seen Sheppard up ahead.

Picking up the pace, he swore as the figure turned down another hallway, preventing him from making a positive identification. It certainly loped down the hallway like Sheppard and that nest on the top of his head was hard to mistake for anyone else.

And whether the Colonel wanted to or not, McKay was going to talk to him.

***

Swearing under his breath as he heard the lieutenant yelling for Doctor McKay to slow down, John Sheppard made a decision to duck down the nearest hallway in an effort to get away from the conversation he knew McKay was intent on having with him.

He wasn't in the mood and had no intention of talking to the man for a very long time.

Realizing he'd turned down a dead end, he quickly turned on his heel intending to slip back down the main corridor to the next intersection when he spotted McKay coming directly at him.

Turning back around, he realized that there was a transporter only a few steps away. If he could just get there…

"Oh, Colonel! Colonel, I've been looking all over for you."

Sighing, he turned to face the scientist, folding his arms over his chest as he let the other man come to him. He didn't disguise his current feelings. Why pretend to be nice when he wasn't in the mood? "I heard."

Disappointment and hurt flashed over McKay's face before being replaced by a mask of feigned disinterest. "I suppose I deserve that. Look," he continued, his words coming slower, more uncertain. "I just…um…I wanted to apologize about what happened. I was wrong. I'm sorry. And I wanted to assure you that…uh…I intend not being right again—about everything, effective immediately." He offered a hopeful smile and John resisted the urge to lash out and wipe it off the man's face. John smiled slightly, without humor, but kept his arms folded. McKay's grin faltered a moment later.

"That was a joke."

"Good one," John said, turning to the transporter alcove. He could hear the footfalls of the other man following behind him, so he turned again, fastening a look of impatience on McKay, who began to babble almost immediately.

"I've already apologized to Elizabeth...and Radek... and I thanked Colonel Caldwell for, uh, caring enough to spy on the experiment from orbit. I sent him a nice little email, actually. But I saved you 'til last 'cause, um, honestly, I would ... I would hate to think that recent events might have permanently dimmed your faith in my abilities, or your trust. At the very least, I hope I can earn that back."

John stood there, surprised at the words tumbling from McKay's mouth. Was he kidding? Trust? Faith? Those flew out the window as soon as he decided to use both of them to manipulate him into doing something that he thought was a bad idea from the beginning. He'd trusted McKay, believed him when he'd come to his door in the middle of the night, asking—begging him even—to trust him, to convince Elizabeth that it was a good idea to learn more about that power source.

Any more situations like that and they wouldn’t have to worry about the Wraith anymore in the Pegasus galaxy—there wouldn't be any of it left if McKay kept blowing it up.

His eyes hard, he finally managed to mutter a reply before turning and stepping into the transporter alcove. "That may take a while."

"I see," McKay replied, his face a misery.

Sheppard could hear the sound of stomping feet fast approaching and used the time to position himself in the transporter. "But, I'm sure you can do it, if you really want to try." Poking a spot on the transporter map, somewhere near his quarters, he looked back at the other man, offering a smile as the visibly annoyed lieutenant turned the corner, the doors closing before he could hear the bellowing Sheppard knew was about ready to begin.

From the looks of things, McKay was in trouble and he deserved everything the lieutenant could throw at him. Something had to be able to get through to the arrogant man.

John sighed, stepping out of the transporter on the opposite end and heading toward his quarters. He'd change first and then head back to the gym. Maybe one of the Marines would be up to a little one-on-one.

***

**_Day Two_ **

When Lorne arrived the next morning at McKay's door, Captain Andrews quickly reported 'all quiet' before heading off down the corridor at a quick clip. Glancing down the hall, a puzzled expression on his face, Lorne turned back to the door, triggering the chime.

Through the wall Lorne could have sworn that he heard McKay reply, "For the sixteenth time. Go away."

Lorne leaned on the chime again.

When the door slid open a few seconds later, he discovered an agitated McKay in jeans and a T-shirt glaring at him. The scientist's eyes widened when they landed on Lorne. "Oh, sorry, Major. Thought it was Andrews. Been driving me crazy all morning." He walked away, waving absently for the Major to enter. "You wanted something?" he continued as he made his way to his desk.

Lorne glanced around the spotless room; everything was organized and put away. It was odd to see the change in such a short period of time.

"Major?" McKay prompted, looking up at him as he sat in his desk chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back. "I don't think you invaded my imprisonment for your health. You wanted something?"

"What's with Andrews?" he asked, changing the subject and adopting a parade rest stance at the end of McKay's bed.

"What does it matter to you?"

"He's supposed to be guarding the door, not making your life hell."

"Too late for that anyway, Major," McKay said with a roll of his eyes. "Colonel Sheppard and Doctor Weir have that covered. Oh, and did you get your jollies yesterday parading me around?"

Lorne took a deep breath, trying to control his annoyance. He should have known the mild-mannered physicist wouldn’t last. Although this McKay sounded more normal than the one he babysat yesterday.

"I was doing my job."

"So, it's your job to humiliate me in front of the entire Atlantis base? That's new. I'll need to brush up on my military protocols when I get server access again." McKay stood, taking several steps toward Lorne before stopping, looking down his nose at him. "Was there something you wanted, Major? If not, I have work to do."

"Work?"

"Not all of my work was on the server and the last time I checked I was allowed to access the contents of my own hard drive. Or are you going to run and report to Elizabeth that I'm working on personal projects?"

"No," Lorne said, trying to figure out how he lost control of his conversation. He'd only wanted to know if the doctor wanted to get breakfast, but from the looks of things he'd been up for hours already.

"Then, I suggest you go outside and do that guard duty thing you're so good at. And remember the next time you want to 'mock the prisoner' that I don't want to play."

McKay turned and walked back to his desk, dropping into his chair, his fingers immediately clicking on the keyboard. Lorne shrugged and shook his head, moving out into the hallway.

I guess, he thought as the doors slid shut, that would be a 'no' to breakfast.

***

As soon as the door closed behind Lorne, Rodney sighed and slumped in his chair, cradling his head in his arms as he leaned on the desk. He was so tired and bored. And, knowing his current state of mind, would probably yell at Mother Theresa if she happened to walk through the door.

This was worse than torture.

It wasn't bad enough he had trouble sleeping—he kept seeing Collins' charred remains coming back to life, stumbling after him, murmuring it was all Rodney's fault he'd been burned. Sometimes he'd wake up sweating and shaking, convinced the man's dead and fused hands were throttling him in his sleep. Other times, he was standing there, watching as it happened, watching as Collins' skin turned black, cooking him instantly, the man crying and yelling, begging Rodney to stop the pain.

Sometimes it was Sheppard in Collins' place.

He wasn't sure which was worse.

And then Captain Andrews thought he was being cute, playing the 'ring and run' game—not that Andrews had anywhere to go either. But it always seemed that as soon as McKay had finally fallen into a dreamless sleep the door chime would go off, startling him to wakefulness. Apparently, the good Captain had decided Weir's punishment wasn't enough, that he had to add to it, just to make it better.

At 0500, he'd given up trying to sleep, taking his time showering and puttering around the room. He'd started straightening his closet and then one thing led to another. By the time he was finished, his entire room was organized.

It would make things easier in the long run he knew.

He'd tried working on the few projects on his hard drive, but they refused to hold his attention for long. Why was it that when you had all the time in the world to work on research, you never had the desire to sit and do it? Why did you always want the things you couldn’t have?

He was trapped, so he wanted to walk out to the end of the East Pier. He had time to work on his personal projects, but his mind drifted back to the events on Doranda. Hell, he'd even go work out with Teyla just to get out of the room. It was irrational, he knew, and frustrating at the same time.

But sitting here, sipping on his bottle of water to wash down the two pain meds he'd found stashed in his first aid kit and the crumbs of a PowerBar, his mind was working away. It wasn't equations and formulas this time, however. He was going through what he could remember from the Ancient's database about planets and weapons and power sources. There had to be something he could use, something he could find and fix. Something that would make their life easier in the Pegasus galaxy.

He knew he'd locate it once he could delve into the database, but until he had his access privileges reinstated, all he had were memories. He hoped they were going to be enough.

***

**_Day Three_ **

McKay refused to leave his quarters all day.

Lorne had asked several times—politely, nicely—only to be insulted and unceremoniously thrown out. There was only so much food the physicist could horde in there before he would have to come out, but who knew what he had hidden away. It wouldn't surprise him if the scientist had managed to MacGyver some sort of Ancient mini-fridge out of spare parts.

By the time the next day rolled around, Lorne was worried. According to Andrews and Clark, McKay had refused any offer to go get food. A man could not live on PowerBars alone—even though McKay would probably try to argue against it.

Preparing himself for a fight, Lorne squared his shoulders and waved his hand over the door panel, triggering the chime. After a few minutes of no response, Lorne tried again, adding several pounds on the door with his fist.

"Doctor McKay?"

Thinking the door open, Lorne poked his head in, catching sight of the overly organized and spotless room. And sitting at the desk—slumped over it was closer to the truth—was the scientist.

Approaching slowly, Lorne noted he was breathing—always a good thing. A light snore rose up from the sleeping figure and he shook his head. Even off duty, the scientist didn't know when to quit. It didn't even look as if he'd ever made it to bed last night.

Reaching out a hand, he placed it lightly on the sleeping man's shoulder, trying not to startle him. "Doctor?"

McKay half-muttered, "Go away," before shifting slightly, a grimace finding its way to his face.

He woke then in stages, his hand immediately going to clutch at his back, the other one grabbing at his head. "Oh, god…" he groaned. A minute later he glanced over his shoulder, his bloodshot blue eyes glazed with pain. "What are you doing in here? Don't you people torture me enough?"

Lorne leaned back, his eyebrows drawing together. "Torture? What?"

McKay waved him off, rising to his feet with a hiss. "Never mind. Where are those damn pills?"

"What's wrong, McKay?" Lorne asked, following the staggering scientist as he stumbled to the bathroom. A field fit appeared a moment later that he rustled through, finally pulling out a bottle of pain meds.

"What does it look like?" he replied, shaking two pills into his hand before popping them into his mouth and dry-swallowing them.

"You look like you're eighty, that's what," Lorne said, eyeing the man critically. "Why don't you try sleeping in your bed?"

"Oh, thank you for bringing that to my attention, Captain Obvious. I hadn't thought of that before," McKay said, rounding on him. "And why are you in here anyway?"

"Major Obvious to you, doctor," he said, trying to lighten the atmosphere in the room—without success. Narrowing his eyes, he took a good look at the man leaning against the bathroom doorframe. He was paler than yesterday, the circles under his eyes darker. McKay was obviously sporting one hell of a headache if the squinting eyes were any indication. Top that off with stiff back muscles from falling asleep at his desk…well it was no big surprise why he might be a little testy.

"When was the last time you ate something?"

McKay folded his hands over his chest. "I know how to take care of myself, Major. I don't need a nursemaid."

"Just answer the question."

"Yesterday sometime…this morning. What does it matter?"

"Let me guess. A peanut butter PowerBar?"

McKay huffed at him, confirming his assumption. "So, since we're settled with when and what you ate last, how about breakfast? I'm sure the sudden decrease in caffeine is not helping your head. I'll make sure there's a full pot."

It took a moment before he answered. Shaking his head slowly, McKay's eyes were guarded. "Why do you care?"

"I have eyes and ears, McKay, but I choose to make my own decisions. Up for some breakfast? I'll join you this time."

McKay held his eyes for a long moment before answering. "You promise there will be coffee?"

Lorne smiled. "Promise."

***

Teyla walked purposely toward Doctor McKay's quarters, her training bag in hand. Although Colonel Sheppard had explained the mission that had led to the Doctor's current predicament to both her and Ronon, the real reasons behind the Colonel's anger were not clear. And, no matter how much she and Ronon pushed, he would not speak any further about the matter.

She had heard the talk in the hallways, in the gym, in the mess hall, in the infirmary, and even in the control room. There was not much else being spoken about. The words were hurtful, full of vengeance and distain. She had known that the scientist was not the most popular person on the base, but she had never expected the tone of the conversations she'd overheard.

Lieutenant Holden Clark was standing guard outside the Doctor's quarters, a bored expression on his face. As soon as he saw her coming, however, he straightened up, his professional mask slipping in place. When she stopped in front of him, his eyebrow rose.

"Ma'am…can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Doctor McKay."

"He's not available."

"Is he not inside his quarters?"

"Of course, he's there."

"Then, why am I not permitted to speak to him? Did Doctor Weir specifically state that Doctor McKay was to receive no visitors?"

"Well, no, not exactly."

Teyla narrowed her eyes. "Would it not be best to check with Doctor Weir before we stand here with the situation unresolved?"

"But—" he muttered, but Teyla cut him off as she reached for her comm. "Doctor Weir?"

Weir's response was almost immediate. "Yes, Teyla? Is there a problem?"

"I had a question regarding the specifics of Doctor McKay's confinement. Is he permitted visitors?"

Weir was quiet for a moment before she finally responded, her tone curious but with a strange hard edge, her words coming slowly as if she was carefully considering them. "Was there something you wished to discuss with Doctor McKay?"

"No. He is a member of my team and I wish to speak with him. Has he been denied companionship as well as removed from the duty roster?"

"No," Weir finally answered. "Anyone who _wishes_ to speak to him may."

"Thank you, Doctor Weir. I will inform Lieutenant Clark of your decision. Teyla out." Turning the comm off, she turned to the man standing beside her, his expression a combination of worry and annoyance. "Doctor Weir says that Doctor McKay is permitted visitors. If you will stand aside, I wish to speak with him."

"Your funeral," Clark muttered, waving his hand over the door chime.

Teyla turned back him, her anger rising. "What did you say?"

"Just that he's been in a piss-poor mood for the past three days. Might be safer out here."

"And if you had been treated the way he has been, would you not also be in a 'piss-poor' mood, Lieutenant?"

The doors slid open revealing a bleary-eyed McKay. "What do you want?"

***

Breakfast had been an interesting affair.

There had been coffee—as promised. As many cups as he wanted. Lorne had even procured a thermos from somewhere, filling it with the hot liquid before they returned to his quarters.

Pseudo-eggs had graced his plate, along with pancakes and toast, everything just the way he liked. And after a day of PowerBars, and the other odds and ends he'd be able to grab, it was heavenly.

The whispering was still there. The leering stares. The distain-filled glances.

But McKay had ignored them, intent on the hot food in his plate. But still, the words got through and by the end of his meal he'd been as tense as a piano string. Glancing up at Major Lorne, he knew the man had heard everything, his eyes flickering over the people in the room, remembering phrases and faces and names. It was as if McKay could see Lorne cataloging everything and storing it in the back of his mind. What he was going to do with the information, he didn't know.

The incident happened when they were leaving.

It was said quietly, but the disgust had been clear. "Who knew McKay could find another bedwarmer so quickly? Wonder if he even waited for Sheppard to get his toothbrush before moving in."

McKay had turned, his eyes finding the culprit immediately. It was hard to miss the condescending glare and the up-lifted chin. It wasn't Kavanaugh, but the tone was just about right—as was the attitude. It had to be one of his minions.

Lorne had put a hand on his arm, trying to stop his forward movement, but he shrugged it off. His eyes narrowing as he approached the scientist, McKay could feel his blood pressure rising with every step.

"You were saying something, Wisinski?" McKay asked, the name popping into his mind as he got closer. The scientist stood, drawing support from the other three sitting with him at the table.

Ignoring Lorne's warning of "McKay" in the background, Rodney had kept moving, only stopping when he was in the man's personal space.

Wisinski had glanced toward his companions, puffing up with confidence at their encouraging smiles. "I was just commenting on how quickly you change boyfriends, McKay. What's with you and the military? Or maybe you just have a thing for uniforms?"

His hands shaking, the pulse point in his forehead throbbing with each and every beat of his heart, he stepped closer, only to find Major Lorne moving between then, blocking his way.

"I believe this conversation is ended gentlemen," the Major said, his voice boding no argument, a hand on each man's chest, gently forcing them apart.

"I wasn't done. In fact I was just getting started," McKay growled, his eyes refusing to leave Wisinski's face. He was briefly rewarded when he saw a hint of fear in the scientist's eyes, but it quickly faded when Lorne continued, shoving McKay back a few paces.

"Yes, you were. Now, Doctor Wisinski, if you'd kindly return to your meal, Doctor McKay and I will be leaving." He paused, turning slightly as he aimed the last part at the smug scientist. "Let me make a suggestion. Make sure this…conversation never happens again."

Lorne had moved away, grabbing McKay by the arm, forcibly removing him from the mess hall. Snagging the thermos full of coffee from the table, they'd returned to the residential section of Atlantis in silence, McKay still fuming about the incident, Lorne companionably quiet.

When he'd refused to leave for lunch, Lorne ordered someone to bring something, dropping the tray on the desk with a thump before turning on his heel and heading back out the door. McKay didn't even have the chance to say 'thanks' when the door slid shut behind the major.

Dinner was a different matter entirely. Holden, apparently acting on orders from Lorne, nearly dragged McKay to the mess hall, but merely watched as the physicist retrieved a tray-full of food before heading back to his quarters.

They could force him to come here to get food, but they couldn't make him stay. There was only so much humiliation a man could take in one day.

So, here he was, sitting on his balcony, picking at the remnants of his dinner and trolling through the events of the day. Looking back, McKay knew that Wisinski had been trying to get a rise out of him, and, like clockwork, he'd responded. Maybe it was the attitude. Maybe it was the tone. Or maybe he just didn't like to see someone who was finally treating him like a human dragged down to his level. Besides, there was only room down here for one.

Besides, Lorne was a good man. Why should he sully the man's reputation just because he wanted to be nice to one of the biggest screw-ups in Atlantis? He was new. That must be it. Lorne must not have had the pleasure at being at the receiving end of his sharp tongue yet. Well, until now, he imagined, chuckling to himself humorlessly, bitterly.

He'd shoved himself against one of the outside walls, hunched down in the corner of the balcony furthest from the door, his knees pulled up toward his chest. He'd curled in on himself, cold but refusing to get up and retrieve more clothes. He could deal with a little discomfort. This was far less embarrassing and uncomfortable than the punishment Elizabeth decided he needed.

He thought he'd had a rapport with her. They'd worked together for more than two years, nearly three. They were friends, or as close to it as he ever got—at least that's what he'd always assumed…until now. Yes, he may have blown up the majority of a solar system, but Carter had blown up entire stars—on purpose he might add—not that it would add any credibility or justification to his argument. They'd just think he was trying to be his usual impudent self.

His equations _should_ have worked, and because they didn't one man was dead—a scientist who actually had more than two brain cells and seemed to know what he was doing. Because of his carelessness, his arrogance, his ego, he'd lost someone from his team. And even trying to set things right once again—to give Collins' death meaning—had just made things worse. Horribly worse.

Sighing deeply, his food long forgotten, he leaned his head against one of the wall supports and folded his arms over his chest, tucking his arms in his armpits, trying to keep the little heat he had close to his body.

But, when you considered all the alternatives, there was only one thing that was clearly evident—at least in his mind. It was his own fault he was in this situation. It wasn't as if he could blame Elizabeth for meting out the punishment she'd given. He might want, to but it wasn't fair on his part. She'd really had no choice in the matter and it _was_ his actions that had forced her hand. Did it hurt? Yes. Was it necessary to set the example that shortsightedness and personal ambition had no place in this expedition? Definitely.

He understood it intellectually, of course. He just hated being the example.

But, there was light at the end of the so-called tunnel, even as clichéd as that sounded. In a few day's time he'd go back to work, beginning to fashion a plan to ensure the city's safety, to show them he could make things right once again. It was only a matter of time, he knew, before he'd come up with something. That's what he did—solved things, fixed problems.

He'd fix this, whatever it took.

The sunset and the sound of the ocean below had been calming, allowing his thoughts to drift, giving him a sense of peace he'd thought he'd long since lost. But as quickly as it came, it deserted him once again—much like everyone he'd known. Collins hovered just beyond the railing. His charred fingers reaching out, brushing against his face, tightening around his throat…

McKay's eyes snapped open quickly, his breath catching in his chest, his hands rising to ward off the last vestiges of his nightmare.

Heart pounding, he staggered to his feet, one hand grabbing onto the railing while the other wiped the sweat from his forehead. The chime of the door shattered the remaining tendrils of the dream from his mind, as his legs pushed him unsteadily toward the door.

Disorientation quickly turned to anger as his body shivered from the temperature change. What the hell did the Marines have against him?

He sent a mental command to unlock and open the door as he approached.

"What the hell do you want this time?"

His angry words were already out of his mouth before he saw who was standing in front of him.

"Um…" he stuttered, moving back to allow her to step inside, the door sliding closed behind her. "What….why are you here, exactly?" he asked, watching as she moved toward his bed, dropping her bag on the surface. She turned toward him, her hands on her hips as she regarded him carefully, her eyes narrowing in displeasure. McKay straightened self-consciously under her gaze. His right hand moved to its familiar position, resting comfortably behind his back, while his left hand was free to roam, the limb in constant motion, his fingers clenching and unclenching as if they were as unsure about what to do as he was.

"You have missed your workout sessions," she said without any preamble, her voice unthreatening, merely stating a fact.

"I didn't exactly have much choice in the matter," he replied quickly, defensively, a frown finding its way to his face as Teyla reached into her bag and produced two sets of sticks. He took a few steps backwards as she approached, panic sliding across his face. "Wait a minute. What do you think you're doing with those?"

"Since you cannot attend our sessions in the gym, I decided to come to you."

"I see that," he said, eyeing his teammate carefully. "But that still doesn't explain why you're chasing me with big sticks."

She didn't sigh, exactly.  It was more like she exhaled a little harder than normal. "I would suggest you change into something more appropriate for this type of activity."

"Or?"

"Or we can begin practice immediately," she said, offering him a set of the sticks. "I do not believe you will be comfortable in the clothes you are currently wearing, however."

McKay stood his ground, his arms crossing over his chest as he glared at the woman. "I don't understand this. You come barging into my quarters and begin waving sticks and demanding that I change into different clothes to do an activity I don't enjoy. Why should I listen to you?"

She raised her hands, holding the sticks higher.

"Right," he said, snapping his fingers as he moved to his closet. "Big sticks." He rummaged for a minute, digging for the workout clothes he knew were there. Spotting them, he reached in, coming up for air a moment later. He continued talking as he walked toward the adjacent room. "Give me a minute and I'll get changed."

"I shall give you all the time you require," she said as he entered the bathroom, the door closing quietly, leaving him alone. Resisting the urge to simply slump against the surface behind him and take a deep shuddering breath, he willed himself to move, to get his limbs to obey his command. The switch of clothes didn't take long, but he used a few of those minutes to compose himself and wash off the stench of fear from his waking nightmare. Sometimes he swore he could still smell the odor of burned flesh.

Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths, allowing a small sense of control to flow over him. He knew it wouldn't last, but he needed this time and this slight feeling of normality for his own sanity—although, it shouldn't make that big of a difference since he was in doubt of it on a regular basis.

Steeling himself for what he knew was to come at the hands of his teammate, he opened his eyes and exited the bathroom, stopping short as he realized his room had changed. Teyla smiled gently at him from across the room, his bed now pushed to the side, making a larger space in the center of the room. Whatever other small items that had been around were also gone, placed in a pile on his now-closed laptop. Even on the balcony, the tray he remembered leaving there was gone, most likely due to his over-zealous teammate.

"You…you moved everything," he said, the only reply he could manage as he gaped at her.

"Yes," she said, drifting closer, her expression moving quickly to concern. "I did not think you would mind since we require a larger area to practice than what was available. If I was presumptuous—"

McKay shook his head, his hands waving before him. "No…no, you're fine. Just took me by surprise." He let his eyes glide around the room, cataloging every change. He never liked people touching his things. Most didn't show the same care he did, but Teyla was okay. She wouldn't break anything, ruin anything. There was something about the Athosian woman that he simply trusted. Meeting her eyes once again, he forced himself to nod, offering a tired half-smile as he moved toward the closet. "Let me just put sneakers on. I can't defend myself very well in socks."

"I'm certain you would perform more than adequately, Doctor," she replied. And, even without looking, he knew her head was tilted slightly to the side and there was a smile on her face.

Ever the optimist, he thought, wrestling with his footwear. Even with her village destroyed and her people facing annihilation by the Wraith, she continued to fight, continued to believe that they would survive to live—and fight—another day. How they could keep going with that kind of weight dragging them down, he did not know. He didn't envy their way of life. It was hard and each day was uncertain. But then, so was their own.

Finally standing once again, he moved to take the a pair of the fighting sticks from her, his hands finding the weights familiar, his body and his muscles falling into the position it had come to know. "So, you're going to go easy on me, right? We're not in the gym or anything. No mats. Remember, I bruise easily."

She smiled easily. "I remember. Now, concentrate," she ordered. He nodded once and they began circling, each sending out test strikes, every one easily blocked.

Rodney fell into the movement, watching Teyla carefully as they circled. His eyes fixed on her, looking for openings, for indications when she would strike. He lost himself in the moment, his hands and arms acting and reacting, sometimes without conscious thought.

They danced.

The sticks struck each other in a growing composition of sounds—the crack of wood against wood combing with the harsh breaths and the swoosh of their feet against the floor.

And then, as if a silent command had been given, they stepped back in unison, drawing deep breaths as they offered a parting bow, signaling the end of their practice session. Sweat glistened on their brows, their clothes sticking to overheated bodies. Smiles, though, graced both faces.

"You have done well, Doctor McKay," Teyla praised as she retrieved the sticks and returned them to her bag. "You have progressed greatly since we began sparring."

He offered a thankful smile, ducking his head at the compliments. "I never thought I'd have to do anything like this, but I like knowing I can do it if I have to. You're a good teacher, patient when others would not be."

"Then it is their loss. You are an apt student, and quick to learn. Do not value yourself less just because you are only now learning what others have known. I am only sad that you have been forced to travel this path." She paused, her face drawing in on itself, her eyes darkening. Her tone though was quiet, thoughtful, but strong. "Be strong. There are still many who would call you friend."

Moved by her comments, McKay wasn't sure what to say, if he should thank her, so he let the silence grow between them instead.

Picking up her bag, she walked toward the door, turning just before she reached it. "Would it be permissible to return again tomorrow night to continue your training?"

McKay nodded, grateful for the normal question as his pulse and his breaths came easier. "That…that would be fine. I think I'd like that."

Teyla smiled, inclining her head toward him. "Then, I shall return tomorrow." As the door opened, he called out to her once again, making her pause.

"Hey! You didn't move the bed back."

Glancing over her shoulder, McKay swore she was smirking. "Consider it…homework."

***

Atlantis at night was heaven to John Sheppard. The corridors quiet, except for a few solitary figures wandering the halls. Sometimes he'd hear laughter echoing down a stairwell or from an open door and he'd smile. They'd made Atlantis their home, and at night it sounded like they belonged.

Tonight, however, he wasn't listening to the satisfied hum of the city or the words floating on the air, drifting from the gatherings throughout the city. As he entered the residential section the sounds quieted, but there was a sense of people living here.

Approaching one of the doors, he stopped, drawing a breath before he waved his hand in front of the door chime, waiting patiently for the occupant to answer. He was rewarded a few moments later when the door opened and a rumpled Major Lorne squinted up at him.

"Colonel?" he asked, trying to straighten up, but Sheppard waved him off.

"At ease, Major. I wanted to speak to you about a change in your orders beginning tomorrow."

"Sir?" Lorne said, his eyebrows drawing together in puzzlement, seemingly unfazed that he was standing in the doorway in boxers and a T-shirt.

"Doctor Beckett needs to go to the mainland in the morning to perform some routine checks on the Athosians. I need you to go with him."

"But, I'm scheduled—"

"Change it. As it was, you were supposed to delegate that particular assignment."

"Sir? I thought you had left it up to my discretion."

"I did, but I'm assigning someone to replace you. Report to the jumper bay at 0700 hours and be prepared to give Doctor Beckett whatever assistance he requires. I believe he said this would take several days to complete. You may want to talk with the Doctor to determine if he plans to remain on the mainland until he's finished."

Lorne's face hardened, but he nodded. "Understood, sir. Anything else?"

"Nothing, Major. Have a good night."

Sheppard turned on his heel, striding away from Lorne, vaguely hearing the door to the Major's quarters slide shut. He headed a few levels up, his feet taking him unerringly to Teyla's door.

She answered quicker than the Major, calling out to him to enter as the door opened. She was seated on her bed, obviously in the middle of some of her nightly exercises. "I'm sorry to interrupt," he began as he stepped inside. "I tried calling you on the radio, but you didn't pick up."

"I apologize, Colonel. I had taken it out once I returned to my room and did not think to turn it loud enough for me to hear. It shall not happen again." She paused, looking him over carefully before speaking. "However, if it had been an emergency, you would have paged me, so it must be another matter. Why are you here, Colonel Sheppard?"

"There's been a change in our mission schedule."

"When did this occur? I did not think we would be continuing with our missions while Doctor McKay was restricted to the base."

"I never said that," Sheppard replied, pacing a little. "Doctor Weir left the decision up to me as to how I wished to handle the situation and I do not think it's a good idea for the flagship team to just sit home because of the change in status of one of its members."

John paused, glancing at Teyla, but her face was unreadable. "Doctor Weir has been going over some of the records you provided and she believes that the Mazurkians would make a very good trading partner for Atlantis. She suggested that we go and make first contact since you had mentioned that you knew their leader."

"Yes," Teyla nodded. "I have known Soony for several cycles. He is a good man and would be amenable to trade."

"Good," he said, clapping his hands together. "It's settled. I talked to Ronon already and we can ship out first thing in the morning. Be ready to leave at 0800 hours."

"Very well, Colonel," she replied simply. When he didn't move, she continued a beat later. "Was there something else?"

Sheppard shook his head slowly. "No. I think that's it."

"Then, if you do not mind," she said, rising to her feet. "I have much to do to prepare for the morning."

"Good night," he said, already turning to the door. He didn't expect a reply and wasn't surprised when none was forthcoming. He could tell that Teyla was angry with him, but she'd get over it by morning—which was not far away. He should probably get some sleep. At least now, he could rest. His job was done.

***

**_Day Four_ **

Carson Beckett cursed under his breath as he dragged the large hard-sided case down to the jumper bay along with his over-stuffed backpack. Cresting the bay doors, he spotted Major Lorne hovering near one of the crafts, a tablet in his hands. It looked like he was going over a checklist. It wouldn't surprise him. They needed a lot of extra stuff for this trip to the mainland.

Elizabeth had promised quarterly check-ups for the Athosian people—for any who wanted a medical exam—and it was that time once again. Carson had argued that it could wait a week, that he had other things that needed to be done, but Elizabeth had refused claiming Halling was expecting him first thing in the morning. He just wished someone had given him more than twelve hours warning.

"Morning, Major," he said, sighing as he dropped the case on the floor at the rear of the jumper.

"Morning, Doctor," he replied, glancing up from the tablet in his hands. "Did you need anything else from the infirmary? I can run down with you to pick it up. I think I have all the supplies Doctor Weir promised the Athosians already on-board." His eyes drifted back down to the device in his hand as he checked off several other items on his list. "And did you decide what you wanted to do about overnight accommodations?"

"Nae, I didn't," Carson replied, shaking his head as he critically examined the mostly full jumper. He waved his hands at the boxes stacked within. "It looks like we're starting a new colony with all this…stuff."

Lorne moved closer, stopping beside Beckett as they both looked at their cargo. "Seems like it." A few beats of silence passed before the Major continued, his free hand gesturing to the jumper. "I hate to ask, but did you have anything else to add to the pile?"

Movement near the bay doors drew their attention and Carson smiled, waving the two nurses forward. "Just my nurses and their gear. I told them to pack for one overnight just in case."

Lorne nodded, already moving off. "Then we should be good to go. Let me confirm with Doctor Weir on the supply list and I'll be ready."

"Aye. We'll be here." Sighing, he directed the nurses to stow their gear as he dragged his case into the jumper, finding a spot and shoving it in place. He could hear Lorne talking, probably to Elizabeth, somewhere to the side of the bay. He appeared a few minutes later as soon as they had settled into the forward section—Carson in the co-pilot seat, the nurses behind.

"Looks like we have everything," he said, closing the rear hatch as he moved to the pilot's seat. "It shouldn’t take us long to get there and Halling is expecting us."

Lorne's hands grabbed the controls and the console lit up. Carson watched as the Major went through a quick preflight, nodding to himself when everything came up in the green.

Opening up a communications channel, Lorne spoke again, sharing a brief moment of eye contact with Carson as the signal connected through to the control room. Beckett narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher the look the Major had given him. Something was on his mind—that much was certain.

"Puddlejumper three to Flight, requesting permission to depart to the mainland."

"Jumper three, this is Flight," Weir said. "You're clear for departure. Have a safe trip."

"Thanks, Flight," Lorne replied, already lifting the puddlejumper into the air. "We'll give you an update later today regarding our overnight plans."

"Sounds good. Be safe and give my regards to Halling and the rest of the Athosians."

"We will. Puddlejumper three out."

A few moments later and they were cruising a few hundred feet above the ocean and Atlantis was growing smaller in the distance.

Carson sighed and leaned back in his chair, watching as the mainland grew in size. As much as he enjoyed getting out to the settlement, this time he wished he were staying behind.

Unfortunately, Elizabeth seemed to have other plans for him. And this time, he wasn't sure how he'd gotten dragged into it.

***

John Sheppard walked into the gateroom feeling rested and ready to head out. He spotted Ronon and Teyla near the stairs, while Doctor Weir was standing on the closest balcony overlooking the gate. It was a little weird to be going out in the field as a three-man…person team, but since there was no indication of anything more advanced than a turnip, John decided not to assign a scientist to the team—at least for now. He might consider it in the following weeks, depending on the mission.

"Morning, everyone," Sheppard said, striding over to where the rest of his team was waiting. "Everyone ready to go?"

Ronon nodded silently, while Teyla offered a tight smile. "We are prepared. However, it will not be the same without Doctor McKay joining us."

"I know what you mean," John replied, an answering smile on his face. "We don't have to hear his whining as we hike to the village. How far was it from the gate?"

"I do not know the exact measurement, but it should take us approximately three of your hours to reach the settlement. Do the Mazurkians know we are arriving? If so, they will probably have a guide to greet us."

Elizabeth answered, overhearing the conversation taking place just beneath her feet. "No, we decided to let your team be the first contact team, partially because of your prior relationship with them. Colonel Sheppard and I thought that the Mazurkians would be a good trading partner based upon your earlier recommendations. You're to see if that's still the case."

"Understood, Doctor Weir," Teyla said smoothly, but John had seen the flash of annoyance cross the Athosian's face. Seemed like she still wasn't over 'it' yet. The three-hour hike might be just the thing then.

"The usual, Elizabeth?" John asked, glancing upward.

"Yes," she replied, nodding. "Any fresh vegetables you can manage to get and grains would be good. We're beginning to run short and Doctor Beckett keeps reminding me that we need to eat well-balanced meals with fresh produce and less of the pre-packaged items we get from Earth."

"Veggies and grains. Got it." John paused, glancing around the room, his eyes taking in his teammates before looking back at Weir. "Looks like we're ready to go."

Weir nodded once, turning back to the sergeant who began dialing the gate. A few moments later the wormhole whooshed out, the shimmering event horizon giving the room a blue hue. The MALP headed out a few seconds later and began transmitting data within moments from M3D-218.

"All clear," reported one of the technicians whom Sheppard had yet to learn his name. The Daedalus kept bringing these wet-behind-the-ears recruits. Where they were coming from, was anyone's guess.

"You have a go," Weir said, offering a parting smile before Sheppard turned to the gate. "Be safe."

John nodded, hefting his P90 as he strode to the wormhole, Teyla and Ronon a few steps behind him. The transition from Atlantis through the wormhole to the other side was always unnerving. How SG-1 managed to do this week after week for nine years was mind-boggling.

He emerged on the other side, the cool, damp air of the planet caressing his face, his eyes immediately scanning the open area in front of the gate. A few seconds later and he heard the slurp that indicated Teyla and Ronon had stepped through, the gate shutting down a few seconds later.

It was green, eerily green—and he wasn't referring to the trees, although there were plenty of them here as well. It was as if everything was illuminated in a weak green hue, as if they were viewing everything through a tinted lens. "Teyla," he said, his eyebrows drawn together in concern as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "Did this planet always look…sick?"

He turned in a circle, his eyes scanning everything in sight. He paused when he encountered Teyla's figure about twenty feet to his left. She was examining everything in much the same way as he was, but without the worry he seemed to have.

"Everything is the same as when I was here previously," she finally said. Her body relaxing as she moved closer to him. "Why do you say this planet looks sick? Have not all the worlds we have visited looked different or strange when we first set foot upon them?"

"It's green," commented Ronon quietly, his voice carrying in the silence.

"Exactly," Sheppard said, gesturing to the Satedan.

Teyla shrugged slightly. "The light is indeed different. However, the people are warm and welcoming." She paused, her eyes drifting to the wooded area beyond the clearing before returning to him. "We have a long journey before we reach the settlement. Should we not begin?"

Nodding, John waved his hand toward the path he'd spotted. "Since you know the way, why don't you take point?"

She nodded once before moving off, her stride sure and confident, her steps light. How she did that, John would never know. He followed in silence as Ronon settled in behind him, the sounds of the forest their only conversation. Teyla set a fast pace and the trail was not difficult, weaving through the trees in the forest—much like how McKay flew puddlejumpers.

He swore to himself as the thought popped into his head. McKay. Even on the other side of the Pegasus Galaxy he couldn't get the man out of his head. What was that all about? He should be enjoying the trip, but something was nagging at the back of his mind. He kept looking back, catching Ronon's eyes from time to time, the warrior finally raising an eyebrow at the repeated glances. He felt like he was missing something. Maybe that was the issue. Maybe he was so used to McKay's whining and incessant chattering that the absence of it was setting him on edge. That had to be it, because he as sure as hell didn't want to talk to him—or see him—anytime soon. It was bad enough that the man would be wandering around Atlantis next week.

And if John had his way, all of his upcoming missions would be just like this. Maybe he'd get Zelenka to join them. That man at least knew when to shut up. Radek knew his limits and had no problem admitting something was beyond his grasp. And he knew how to follow directions and orders—even better. Working with someone like that would be refreshing.

Taking a deep breath, John felt some of the edginess slip away. It was a pleasure to be able to travel in silence for once. Who knew? Maybe this would become the norm. Wouldn't that be nice?

***

Rodney McKay's grumbling stomach dragged him away from his dozing state, his head snapping upright quickly as he wiped the trail of drool from his chin. Groaning as his strained muscles complained, his left hand snaked up to rub at his eyes while he pushed his right hand against the small of his back, trying to straighten up and ease the pain that had lodged there.

He'd fallen asleep easily last night. A quick shower had relaxed him and he'd stumbled into bed, slumber coming quickly, the bout of exercise plus the nights of interrupted sleep, stress-filled days, and mental exhaustion washing over him. That hadn't lasted as long as he would have liked, however. By 0500 he was thinking of ways to take apart the door chime with the few paperclips he had on hand. If he could pry off the cover with his bare fingernails—and not rip them to shreds—he would have done it just for a little peace and quiet. At this point even electrocution was looking like a good alternative. At least he'd be able to spend some quality time sleeping with lots of good drugs coursing through his system and the stupid door chime at all hours of the night wouldn't bother him in the least.

He'd gotten up instead—even before the sun was rising—turning to his laptop and his research. He'd done a lot, but he needed the Ancient's database to finish some of it and that access was still several days away. Instead, he started another project and made some progress before his body decided to declare mutiny on his mind.

Rubbing his back with a slightly trembling hand and gazing out the balcony door, he frowned as he saw the thick grey clouds overhead. They didn't get a lot of rain, but every now and then they'd get a storm—apparently today was the day. Outside was off-limits. Wonderful.

Turning his left wrist so he could read the time, he was surprised that it was so late in the day. It was nearly time for lunch. The PowerBar at 0630 only lasted for so long and it was going on 1130. His body, though, knew that it was time to eat—the slight headache and his shaking hands attesting to the fact. But what happened to breakfast with Lorne?

Rising to his feet, he moved to the door. It slid open and he poked his head out, coming face-to-face with a stranger. This didn't bode well. "Uh…hello. Where's Major Lorne?"

"Not here."

McKay scowled at the young marine. "Apparently. If he were standing here it would be silly for me to ask the question, wouldn't it? Do you know where he is?"

"No."

Rolling his eyes, he sighed. "If it's not too much trouble I'd like to get something to eat."

Instead of answering, the man glanced at his watch.

"What? Is there some schedule I'm supposed to be on that nobody decided to tell me about? Just my luck. If I don't eat soon I'll be lying in a hypoglycemic coma. Might not be easy to explain to Doctor Weir in small words and short sentences how Atlantis' resident genius ended up that way, hmm?"

"Isn't it late?"

"For what, dying?"

"Breakfast."

"Breakfast, lunch, brunch. What does it matter what's it's called? I need to eat something." McKay paused, folding his hands over his chest as he glared at the marine. "Let me say this in the simplest way I can so you can get it through your thick skull. I'll use small words. I. Need. Food. It's time to eat. You know, mealtime, chow, food. Understand?"

The man's eyes shifted back and forth from his watch to McKay several times before he nodded. "This will be both your breakfast and lunch run, then."

"What!" McKay sputtered, words refusing to form as his surprise and anger surfaced. Taking a deep breath, he forced a calm he didn't feel, his anxiety level cranking up a notch. "The last time I checked, I was allowed to go to the mess hall for food. Just because I'm inconveniencing you with my choice of times doesn't mean that you can just unilaterally decide that this one outing constitutes both my breakfast and lunch. I'm under doctor's orders to eat three regular meals in addition to various snacks during the day because of my medical condition. When I decide to take my meals is up to me and not some uninformed marine."

Part of him couldn't believe he was arguing with the captain—whatever his name was—about going to the mess hall, especially after the incident yesterday. But at this point, it was the principle of the matter more than anything. He was allowed to eat. He was permitted to go to the mess hall to eat. There had been no limit to the number of times he could go either. If he wanted to get up in the middle of the night and go searching for a snack, they'd have to let him.

At least, he thought they would. He'd never had to do one of these 'restricted to your quarters' things before. The last time he screwed something up they sent him to Siberia. He wasn't sure which was worse.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he waited for Captain Dense to figure out what he was going to do. Along his hairline, he swore he could feel sweat starting to form. If he waited much longer he might be heading directly to the infirmary.

"Look," he began, his hands waving in the air, absently noting that they were shaking as well. "I'm already starting to have a hypoglycemic reaction here and if I don't eat something very soon you're going to be picking up my unconscious body off of the floor. Can we go?"

The man's right hand slid down to rest on the top of his sidearm and McKay resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Well?"

"Fine," he finally replied, gesturing with his left hand for Rodney to move ahead of him. "We'll use the transporter at the end of the hall."

"So you _can_ sting together several words to form a sentence," McKay commented as he glanced over his shoulder, his feet continuing to move down the corridor. The marine refused to rise to the bait and Rodney shook his head, turning to watch here he was going.

With the captain at his back, he really felt like a prisoner. At least Lorne treated him like a human, walking next to him, offering conversation. This sucked.

***

Standing on the shore looking out across the ocean toward the storm approaching on the horizon, Major Lorne sighed before trudging back into the hut that was serving as Doctor Beckett's makeshift hospital.

The Athosians had done a lot since they'd moved to the mainland. The small, improvised camp had morphed into a complex collection of smaller settlements and villages, connected by well-traveled paths and a common bond. Fields stretched out between the houses, thatched huts in reality, but for them these buildings were home.

Greeted warmly, the quartet from Atlantis was offered food and beverages when they'd arrived. They'd visited with Halling and Jinto—the latter having grown tremendously according to Beckett in the short time since the doctor had seen him last.

And then the people started to arrive.

At first they were few and far between. Some of the sickest patients had been moved in the night before from the outskirts of the village and from other settlements further a field. Beckett worked quickly, efficiently, his brogue a comfort even from where Lorne stood outside. There was something so unassuming about the Scot. You just wanted to trust him—and these people did.

By lunch, there had been a line outside the hut, which quickly grew, stretching around the side of the structure and into the woods beyond. Beckett and his two nurses worked tirelessly, treating the sick and injured first before moving onto the others, giving check-ups to those who wished.

And as the day wore on, the line seemed to never shorten. The storm bearing down on the mainland was making an overnight stay more and more likely. Lorne nodded thanks as the line parted before him, allowing him to enter Beckett's new realm, the interior lit entirely with oil lamps and portable lanterns. Shelly Laurence glanced up from the patient she was checking, taking blood pressure and temperature readings of a young woman, offering him a tired smile. He could hear Beckett in the back, past the curtains that cordoned off a section of the hut giving him some kind of privacy.

"Think I can get a minute of the good doctor's time?" he asked, gesturing widely toward the fabric a few feet away.

Laurence nodded. "He should be done in a few minutes." Removing the cuff, she jotted several things down on the sheet she was carrying before patting the woman's arm and pointing her to the chairs at the side of the room.

Slinging the stethoscope around her neck, Shelly rose and stretched, her eyes drifting to the open door. "How many are out there?"

"You don't want to know," he replied with a shake of his head.

Her eyes widened but a yawn caught her off guard a second later. "Sorry," she said as soon as it passed. "I haven't worked like this in a long time."

"It's okay." The curtain parted, pulling their attention to the young man exiting, a smile on his face as he waved to Beckett who was a few steps behind him. The Scot looked tired, exhausted, but there was a quiet air of sheer pleasure around him. The man really enjoyed helping people.

"Major Lorne," Carson said stepping closer, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck, "everything okay?"

"Yeah," he answered nodding. "I wanted to talk to you about tonight."

"Aye." His face dropped slightly, a little more of the exhaustion leaking out. "I'm thinking we may not have the chance to return to Atlantis."

"I agree. As it is, there are some who will have to come back and stand in line again in the morning. And, to top it off, there's a storm heading our way. It seems to have hovered over the city for a bit, but is now on its way here."

"A storm?"

He could see the controlled terror and concern cross the doctor's face, and quickly moved to quell any anxiety. No need for Beckett to be upset by a normal storm. "Don't worry, Doc, it's nothing like the last one."

"Oh, good," Carson muttered, relief clearly evident on his face. "Has Halling mentioned anything about accommodations?"

"Not yet, but I wanted to check with you before I spoke to him." Lorne checked his watch and his eyes drifted outside, judging the light levels. "It's nearly 1800. Why don't you take the last few and call it a night. You look exhausted. I'll get us set up with Halling's help and get dinner started. Think you can wrap things up in about an hour?"

Beckett nodded, exchanging a glance with Shelly. "Go and check the line. Pull in the ones with complaints, the most critical of the bunch, but no more than two or three. Everyone else can wait until the morning. If you have issues come see me."

"Yes, doctor," she replied already moving out the door.

Beckett gestured for the woman sitting timidly along the wall to enter the room he'd vacated several minutes ago. "Anne'll get you all situated and I'll be there in a minute." She nodded, scurrying through the curtain into the room beyond. "Thank you, Major," Beckett said a few beats later, turning to Lorne with a tired smile. "We'll have to start bright and early if we want to make it through the rest of the Athosians tomorrow."

"We can stay another night if you need," Lorne began, but stopped as the doctor shook his head immediately.

"Nae. If we need another day to finish up, we can come back later in the week. There are a few I need to follow-up with in a few days time. Besides, I'd rather not be away from Atlantis too long."

"Worried they're destroying your lab?"

"I trust my staff. It's Rodney I worry about. With everything going on I didn't even get the chance to stop in and see how he's been holding up or even tell him what was happening."

Lorne's eyebrows rose at the doctor's confession, but part of him wasn't surprised. As different as the two men were, they had managed to forge a strange friendship. "He's coping."

"Aye, and I know Rodney. There's no telling what's going through that mind of his right now and with nothing to focus his energy on…" Beckett shook his head, a weary sigh escaping his mouth. "The sooner we get back, the better."

"Then I won't keep you any longer," Lorne said already moving to the door. "I'll send Jinto to find you once we're settled."

Beckett nodded, his mind clearly circling around the physicist. "Aye," he replied absently before shaking off whatever thoughts he'd had. "Let Shelly know since she's the one who'll spot him."

"Will do, Doc," Lorne said. He paused at the threshold of the door, glancing back over his shoulder as Carson ducked into the rear room, his familiar lilt already going full-stream ahead. Shaking his head and chuckling, he moved out, his feet taking him unerringly to Halling's residence.

***

Teyla yawned and stretched as soon as she dropped her pack onto one of the chairs in the house Soony had offered to the visiting Atlantean team. Colonel Sheppard was still hovering at the door, attempting to peer outside without appearing to spy upon the people who had welcomed them warmly, offered to share their evening meal, and provided accommodations for the group. Ronon was stalking the perimeter, glancing intently at the walls and windows, checking over every nook and cranny as if it would reveal some dark secret about the people they were visiting.

"I believe things to be proceeding well," she commented as she watched the two men examine their surroundings. She had assured them earlier that this was common—and in fact a desired response for the Mazurkians. If they had no desire to trade, the Atlanteans would have been turned away immediately, sent to return to the Stargate and Atlantis.

"I don't like it," Ronon growled, his body refusing to relax. "I don't trust them. They're too…accommodating."

"They are a peaceful and generous people. They have nothing to hide from us."

"So you say."

"Yes," Teyla replied firmly.

Sheppard moved into the common room, stopping beside one of the simple chairs and dropped his pack. "So, what should we expect in the morning? Any weird ceremonies I need to worry about?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, Colonel. Soony will offer to break our fast with him and we shall accept. Afterwards, if he is willing to continue our discussions of trade, he will begin negotiations. If he requires more time to get to know you, he will make his intentions known very clearly."

"That's it? No strange rituals?"

"No. What were you expecting?"

Sheppard shrugged. "I don't know. This," he said, waving his hand widely, the gesture encompassing the entire village, "is not what I imagined. We don't generally get easy missions. Usually it's the quiet natives that end up trying to kill us. And these folks qualify. All this…niceness makes me uneasy."

"I have been here on many occasions, Colonel, and the Mazurkians have been nothing except hospitable and generous."

"I know, I know," he said, sinking onto a chair. "You've told me a hundred times."

"If you prefer, I can recommend several planets where the inhabitants are less than friendly for you to visit. I, however, would insist upon remaining on Atlantis while you conduct negotiations."

"No," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. "I'll take happy, shiny natives over ones who want to poke holes in my team. This is just fine."

"Good," Teyla nodded once, sharply, her eyes narrowing at Sheppard. "Perhaps it would be beneficial for us to retire for the evening so as to be prepared for tomorrow's activities. We do not wish to anger the Mazurkians or dishonor their practices."

He raised an eyebrow at the tone of her voice, but didn't protest. "You're probably right. And you're also probably going to tell me that a watch schedule isn't needed."

"Because it is not," she replied, already moving down the hall to one of the rooms.

"Fine."

Teyla refused to glance back as she maneuvered her way into the room, closing the door behind her. Resting gently on the edge of the bed, she reached down, unfastening her shoes and pulling her feet free. She shifted her body, sliding under the bed coverings. She wasn't especially tired, but if she went back into the common room she knew she would come face-to-face with a sulking John Sheppard, and that was something she had no desire to see—especially now. Some days he insisted upon acting like a spoiled seven-year-old. This was one such occasion and she had no patience for his childishness.

Settling in for the night, she closed her eyes, forcing her body to relax. Listening to the quiet movements of the two men, sleep claimed her, carrying her into its welcome embrace.

***

Standing at the railing of his balcony, Rodney looked out at the city, his eyes drifting past the buildings to the ocean, watching as the moon's rays reflected brightly on the rise and fall of the sea swells below. The storm had finally passed, rushing toward the mainland beyond. It was probably raining there now, he surmised, squinting through the darkness trying to see the clouds. He could make out some of the lighting strikes high in the sky overhead, brightening the cloud-tops briefly before darkening once more.

But even as tried to concentrate, his eyes kept drifting back to the ocean and how the light played across it, shimmering, beguiling in its beauty, casting a silver halo over much of the city, the buildings seeming to absorb the light.

It still amazed him that he lived and worked in another galaxy, on an alien planet, in a city build by the first ones, the Ancients. He was surrounded by their legacy, their thoughts. Sometimes he swore the city spoke to him, singing to him, revealing her secrets one by one, like a playful lover, teasing and torturing him, while bringing him to greater and greater heights of sheer pleasure from the discoveries.

There were times when he worked in the deep, dark reaches of Atlantis that he swore he could still hear the Ancient's voices in the hallways. He would walk into the hallways, his eyes casting back and forth, looking for the physical evidence his mind required. His heart, however, knew better. If he tilted his head just a little and held his breath, maybe then, he'd hear more, catch one more phrase, one more word.

Ever since they'd fought to hold onto Atlantis as their home, it was as if she'd opened up even more to them, offering more of herself to those who would fight to keep her, fight to protect her. Maybe it was her way of saying 'thank you' to those who came, who woke her once again, freeing her from the loneliness and emptiness she'd been burdened with. The loneliness and the isolation—even now—were crisp and razor sharp.

Ten thousand years had been too long.

Tonight, he understood.

Once the clocked passed 2700 hours, heading into the small hours of the morning, Rodney had known Teyla wasn't coming. He'd moved the bed back to its rightful place and taken off his sneakers and socks, deciding to go barefoot instead, relishing the feel of the cold floor against his feet. Leaving his workout clothes on, he'd moved to the balcony, his feet encountering several small puddles as he found the perfect spot to star gaze.

Standing there, watching the ocean, he let himself drift, his mind skimming the surface of his thoughts, never resting upon any one for more than a few seconds. And sometime during his solitary meditations, something changed. It was as if the city itself had curled around him, holding him close. She was warm, nurturing, and not demanding of anything. He stood there, drinking in the feeling, his eyes closing as his mind reached out.

A smile briefly touched his lips and the pressure eased off, leaving him with the subtle sensation that he was not alone.

Moving into his room, the balcony door slid shut behind him and he dropped bonelessly into his bed. Relaxing into the mattress, his muscles easily released their tension and he slid into a dreamless sleep.

***

**_Day Five_ **

Carson Beckett sighed wearily and shoved the curtain back as he walked into the outer room of the Athosian hut. Shelly Laurence was slumped in one of the chairs they'd used as their makeshift waiting room, her head held in her hands, elbows on her knees. He heard Anne Matthews treading heavily behind him, and turned to glance at her, noting that her expression matched the weariness they all felt.

Glancing toward the outside door, Beckett sighed as he caught sight of the blackness. After two days of nearly constant examinations they'd finally finished. He'd lost count of the number of people they'd treated.

And in reality, he still wasn't done.

There were a few that needed check-ups—some in a few days, others in a week. The first group was too large to have them ferried over to Atlantis, but the second might fit in a jumper—if they squeezed. And that meant Carson and his staff would be back here again.

He knew he could send one of the other doctors, but some of the Athosians were still a little skittish around outsiders and since he'd been treating the majority of them since they arrived, they felt more comfortable with him so he always felt like he should be the one to treat them.

A shuffle of feet against dirt drew Beckett's attention to the door, finding Major Lorne standing at the threshold, a questioning expression on his face. "Everything okay?"

Carson nodded, his heavy eyelids threatening to descend and not open for a few days. "Aye. We have to pack up…"

"Can't you leave some of it here? We're going to be back in a few days."

"I canna very well leave valuable medicines and equipment just lying around—"

Lorne raised his hands as if to ward off Beckett's words, his eyes wide. "It was just a thought. I know how tired you are and it would have saved us some trips back and forth to the jumper." He sighed, stepping into the room. "What do you want me to take first?"

Carson looked at the Major carefully for several beats before nodding his head slowly. "We can leave a few things, I imagine." Examining the room as he completed a three-hundred-sixty degree turn, pointed out various items that could stay and what needed to go back to Atlantis. Shelly and Anne began packing the items, while Lorne hovered, taking the closed and packed cases as the nurses filled them.

Beckett moved into the room he'd been using for examinations and quickly organized the extra medical supplies. Most of this could stay here, he thought, as he designated one of the cases for the items that would be remaining behind. Most of the medications were still in the case that had been set aside, which he quickly sealed and brought to the curtain that had been shoved roughly to the side. Lorne was there a moment later, moving the hard-sided container to the door where the pile was steadily growing.

Carson continued packing the examination room, Anne finally moving to help once Shelly had the outer room more or less under control. Both Lorne and Laurence had begun moving the supplies back to the jumper, leaving the two of them alone. Matthews was new to Atlantis, joining the expedition only a few months ago. She'd worked at the SGC with Doctor Janet Fraiser, dealing with the insanity that was the norm twenty-eight levels under NORAD.

He'd never known her, but Anne spoke highly of the work Doctor Fraiser had done, of her dedication and her compassion.

He hoped they'd be able to say the same of him when he finally passed on. That would be enough for him, he thought. It would mean that he made a difference in someone's life, that the things he did mattered.

"Doctor Beckett?"

He turned, offering Anne a tired smile. "Aye, lassie?"

"Are you okay? You've been standing there for a few minutes…"

He chuckled humorlessly, letting the packages in his hands fall into the case. "Aye. Everything is just catching up with me, I guess."

"If you want to head to the jumper, I'll finish up in here. You look like you're about ready to drop at any minute."

"Nae," he replied, shaking his head. "I'll be fine. We don't have much more to finish and it'll go quicker with the two of us."

"Only if you stay awake," Anne replied, making Carson glance at her, catching the teasing glint in her eyes and the smile on her lips.

Rolling his eyes, he chuckled and moved off to finish collecting the items from the side table. Retreating footfalls signaled Anne's progress to the other side of the room and the rustle of paper and plastic her continued efforts at packing.

By 2300, after Halling and Jinto saw them off, pressing gifts of Athosian tea and fruit into their hands, they were in the air headed for Atlantis. Carson scrubbed a hand over his face as Lorne piloted the ship through the night skies. Both Anne and Shelly were in the rear of the jumper, stretched out on the benches getting in a quick "power nap" so they'd have the energy to unload the jumper. Although, the sergeant in the control room had promised that there would be someone to meet them so they could retire for the night.

"So what do you think about all of this?" Lorne asked, the question startling Carson from his rambling thoughts.

He shrugged and glanced at the other man. "They're a pretty healthy lot, the Athosians, given the kind of life they've led. I'm nae happy about whatever virus or cold that they've caught. I'm hoping the blood samples will give me a little more insight into that bugger."

Lorne didn't reply for a moment, his eyes remaining fixed to the vista outside the jumper. But for some reason, it seemed as if Beckett had answered the wrong question. But what else could he be referring to? The Athosians had been welcoming, even more so than on previous occasions. It was nice to see these people truly beginning to open up. They had such a large capacity for compassion and there was something so refreshing when it was directed toward you. Even through everything, they remained hopeful and strong, determined to live despite the horrors life held for them.

"Doctor," Lorne began quietly, his tone making Carson really stop and listen. "If I'm stepping out of bounds, please tell me know. I guess since you're civilian I thought you might see things differently than I do…" His voice trailed off and Carson saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Lorne glanced quickly to the side, catching Carson's eye briefly before focusing once again out the windshield off the jumper.

"Laddie, I'm not gonna jump down your throat for asking a question," Carson prompted, shifting in the co-pilot's seat a little. He tried to smile but he knew it probably appeared more worried than concerned and open.

"It's about Doctor McKay."

"Aye?" he replied, the muscles in his back immediately tightening. He'd been trying not to think about that particular subject ever since they'd been ordered to the mainland, but in the back of his mind he was hoping that things were quiet and that nothing else had gotten out of hand. Teyla had expressed her desire to do something to help McKay and had approached Carson privately, late one night. Conscious of Elizabeth's demand for his compliance and non-interference in Rodney's sentence, he hadn't felt comfortable speaking his mind, but he had hoped that his subtle advice had been enough to persuade Teyla to take matters into her own hands.

He hadn't had the opportunity to speak with her again before he'd been ordered to attend to the Athosians.

Carson glanced to the back of the jumper, the low lights giving him just enough illumination to see the slumbering figures of his nurses.

He lowered his voice just in case. "What did you want to know?"

"I've been in a lot of strange situations since I've joined the SGC," Lorne began, the words coming slowly, carefully, pitched just loud enough to reach Carson's ears. "But even before this posting, I'd worked with a lot of scientists and non-military personnel. Now, I know this is an entirely different situation—a very unique situation—and I'm sure Doctor Weir, as a civilian leader, must sometimes feel that she has to act like a governor or make military decisions, but what exactly…how is Doctor McKay's current situation in any way related to what's going on? I don't know the whole story and I know he can be a royal pain in the ass, but what changed?"

Lorne finally looked at him, his normally unreadable face a conflicting tapestry of confusion, concern, and uncertainty.

When Carson didn't answer immediately, it seemed as if Lorne began to panic a little, turning back to the scenery outside and leaving Beckett with only his profile to look at. The doctor could see the instant physical response as the Major's jaw quickly tensed, his hands gripping the controls a little tighter than before. "I’m sorry," Lorne muttered. "I know I shouldn’t have asked. Forget I said anything."

Carson sighed lightly, his eyes drifting to the ocean they were flying over. "Don't worry," he began, trying to keep his tone light. "I have nae a problem with you asking. The answer, however, is more difficult than you may think." The silence stretched out between them for a moment and Beckett could hear the subtle shifting of the man in the pilot's seat. He was still tense, the movements sharp, but Lorne was patient.

"As the head of the science department, Elizabeth…feels that Rodney should provide the highest example of professionalism to his staff," Carson began, trying to keep his own feelings on the matter to himself.

"But you don't agree."

"It's not that I don't agree, Major. It wasn't my decision to make."

"Then you agree. It's either one or the other."

Carson sighed heavily, rubbing a hand across his face as he turned to the right, trying to hide his expression from the Major. The problem was he didn't agree with Elizabeth, but he had no choice _but_ to agree—at least in public. He didn't like being deceitful and he did trust Lorne, but something made him hold back.

Maybe he didn't want to make things worse for Rodney. Maybe he wanted to present a united front for the entire expedition team—they needed it out here. Maybe he was tired of fighting with everything and everyone. Maybe there was a part of him that agreed that Rodney had been out of line. Maybe it felt good to see the smug scientist finally understanding what it was like to fail and maybe he hated himself for thinking that about someone he considered a friend.

Why was nothing ever simple?

"I think Elizabeth had her reasons for doing what she did, as did Major Sheppard for supporting her decision with security officers."

Lorne sighed heavily, making Carson turn back. He was shaking his head, and Beckett swore there was a frown in his face. "I didn't expect you to toe the line, Doc. I didn't peg you for one of the followers."

"It's not like I had much of a choice in the matter," Carson said, suddenly defensive.

"We all have choices."

"Aye, we may, but not every one is for the best."

"And you obviously think Doctor Weir's decision was the right one, so we shouldn't question it. End of discussion."

"I’m not sure what you're fishing for, Major, but I expected you—as one of the military contingent—to understand the whole 'chain of command' or has Colonel Sheppard been rubbing off on you too?"

"I have no issues with following orders," Lorne said, finally turning to Beckett, letting his angry eyes meet Carson's. "I know you're not blind, Doctor. You probably know more of what's going on than anyone else on base. You can see what's happening. You've heard the rumors, the whispered innuendos, maybe even the threats. I'm not sure what's harder for me to understand—your support for something that was unnecessarily harsh or your turning a blind eye to what's happening."

"What makes you think I'm either? I'm senior staff, Major. I just canna do whatever I please."

"But that's just it. If you see the things that are going on, to someone who is your friend—how can you just stand on the sidelines? I've been outside his quarters for days now and do you know how many people have stopped by to see him, to check on him? No one. I'm not even talking about trying to bypass Doctor Weir's orders. I'm talking about basic concern for another human, a friend. Or do you think this is justified? The last time I checked we were allowed to make mistakes."

"And he blew up a solar system. That's a pretty big one if you ask me."

"Yes, he did. There's no denying it. But who here hasn't made a mistake? Who here can say that their decisions haven't resulted in tragedy in one form or another? Colonel Sheppard woke the Wraith. Should we blame him because we're caught in a war we might not win?"

"No, of course not…" Carson began, guilt slipping into him, but he trailed off, not sure what else to say. Lorne had a point, a very valid one, which is why he felt so guilty. There was some part of him that knew Rodney had just made a mistake. He wasn't always right; he was just as human as the rest of them.

Lorne sighed, the anger leaving his body in one fell swoop. "I'm sorry. I know I've only been here a short time compared to some…but what I'm getting at is that there might be more to this whole situation than meets the eye. Things just don't add up. Weir's reaction, Sheppard's, others. Maybe everyone's scared, maybe that's the real problem and McKay's mistake just emphasizes that he doesn't have all the answers, that he might not be the hero we thought he was, or hoped for him to be. I just don't see how this can be good for him or Atlantis."

Something shifted in the pit of Carson's stomach and it wasn't dinner related. "What do you mean?"

"He's not eating regularly, Doc. He doesn't sleep very well, if at all. What if this makes him more cautious—which seems to be exactly what Weir and Sheppard want. What if we need one of his crazy ideas, but because we've decided we want a less egotistical and more mainstream scientist leading the department, we're out of luck? I'm convinced we're all here for a reason—whether we want to believe it or not. We can't afford to be cautious with the Wraith as aggressive as they've become."

Beckett let the silence fall over them as the city grew larger through the windshield. They'd be home soon. Glancing toward the rear compartment, he was happy to see that the nurses were still asleep, their slumber undisturbed even through their heated—if hushed—discussion.

"Major," he began as he turned back to Lorne, his fingers tracing patterns on the forward console, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm…grateful to hear that you've been keeping an eye on Rodney. I shouldn't be telling you this…but…I tried to talk Elizabeth out of her decision, but she wouldn't budge. There's nothing I can do for him because if Elizabeth thinks his sentence was too easy, she'll find a reason to keep him in his quarters and away from everything. This…incident has people questioning Rodney's loyalty to the Atlantis mission, to the base, and the people he promised to protect. Things will change. People will come around. It's just going to take a little time."

"Thanks, Doc," Lorne replied, a half smile on his face. "I know you shouldn't have told me what you did, but I appreciate it. For some reason I seem to have a soft spot for the physicist."

"Aye. I noticed. That might not be a good thing for your health, laddie."

"I just hope that it doesn't take too long for everyone to get back to normal. It's not like we generally have the luxury of time when it comes to the Wraith."

***

Breakfast with Soony had quickly morphed into lunch and dinner. In between the meals, they would talk, negotiating for every single kernel of grain—at least that's what it felt like.

At some point in the afternoon Teyla had taken some pity on him and suggested they break for a while, perhaps to enjoy a tour of the village. Soony had agreed and Sheppard had to hold back a groan as he rose to his feet, his legs a little wobbly from sitting on the floor for most of the day, his limbs awkwardly folded under him in the "proper position" of negotiation according to Teyla. At one point, he swore she just made that up to make him more uncomfortable. He scowled at Teyla and Ronon as they rose easily, moving to the door before John had gotten his feet under him.

While the tour had gotten them moving and had restored some blood to John's extremities, the mind-numbing aspect of it nearly made him want to spork his eyes out. Might be less painful in the long run.

All this for veggies and grain. He'd have to remind Elizabeth about his great sacrifices once they got back—if they ever got back. If Soony didn't talk them to death first which had a high probability of occurring—at least from where he was currently standing.

The never-ending story of their cultural and developmental history served as the tour's soundtrack, much of which John ended up tuning out. He was sure that if Soony ever visited Atlantis he'd be coveting the weird statue on Elizabeth's desk the moment he set his beady little eyes on it. He seemed the 'peace, love, and happiness' type. Hell, he'd even gift wrap it for him.

Instead, he people watched.

The Mazurkians were different from what he expected on this puke-green-hued planet. Instead of the strange lighting making them look sick, they seemed to be thriving. They didn't have a lot, but they had more than enough to feed their people—and they were willing to share their excess.

The homes were not extravagant—not that any primitive agrarian society had three million dollar mansions—but they weren't the average hut he was used to seeing. There was an understated permanence to the structures, the stone foundations rising up to meet the wood and thatched roofs above. It was as if the Mazurkians were subtly thumbing their noses at the Wraith, their very presence a testament to the villager's unbroken spirit.

Children ran around in small groups, laughing and playing, weaving in and out of the homes and the people. Every now and then one of the parents would lean out a front door and yell at them to behave. Smells drifted from the buildings—some sweet, some pungent, nothing disgusting. The scent of cinnamon—or at least the local equivalent according to his nose—drew his attention to a small structure hidden at the edge of the forest, the sound of music—singing actually—drifting out from one of the windows.

The normality was oddly comforting.

It was the same wherever they went. There was a woman hanging out laundry around one corner, a man bleeding some kind of game animal around the next. A group of children running after a ball tore by then while two angry voices flew out of the open window of a building tucked down a short dead-end street. The bustling market square was a symphony of sounds, sights, and smells.

The people looked happy.

As Soony droned on about the Mazurkians' history as they trudged through the settlement, John considered that simple fact. As a whole, the Mazurkians were happy. They were realistic, John knew. They worried about the next culling, about strangers who might not be trustworthy, about the next harvest and the possibility of droughts or floods. But through it all, they were happy.

Maybe that's why he was so uncomfortable here. He was hard-pressed to remember the last time he was truly content with his life and in his skin.

Even after dinner concluded and they settled down for another night under Mazurkian skies, John found his mind continuing to churn. What did they have that he didn't? What made these simple people so satisfied? Was it family? Community? He had both, in a way—or so he liked to think.

Then, why did he feel so jealous, envious even, of what was here? Wriggling a little, he sank deeper into the mattress, pulling the blankets closer around him, trying to push the disquieting thoughts from his mind.

He had everything just the way he wanted.

Didn't he?

***

**_Day Six_ **

Doctor Elizabeth Weir glanced up as she heard the light shuffle of feet near her doorway. With a smile, she gestured for Carson to come in as she put her tablet down, picking up her warm tea mug instead. Taking a sip, she waited until he settled wearily into one of the chairs in her office before speaking.

"I spoke with Major Lorne briefly last night when you got in," she began, the bloodshot eyes and stubble-marked chin giving her pause. "Are you okay? We don't have to do this now."

He nodded, his hand brushing through his hair, making it stand up a little more than usual. "Aye. Been a long two days is all. What did Major Lorne have to say for himself?"

"Nothing much, which is why I thought our conversation could wait until the morning since everything went so smoothly on the mainland. He did mention that you have to go back in a few days. Everything okay with the Athosians?"

"Mostly," he said nodding. "A few of them have a virus of sorts I haven't seen before. It doesn't seem too dangerous, but I wanted to have a look at them to make sure the medicines I gave them are fighting it. It'll also give the lab a chance to look over their blood samples."

"Anything we need to worry about?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Once we get the test results back I'll be able to give you a better answer."

"Good, good," she replied, nodding her head, her eyes fixed on the steam rising up from the liquid in her mug. She took another sip before setting it down carefully on her desk. "I was going to ask you for a favor, but I'm not sure it's a good idea," she began, her eyes drifting over the exhausted face of her chief medical officer.

"What is it?"

"Colonel Sheppard checked in a few hours ago and he mentioned that they were very close to closing the trade deal with the Mazurkians. He thought that some kind of…offering on our part would be enough to get them to agree."

"Offering?"

From the tone of his voice, she knew he immediately thought the worst. "Nothing along those lines, Carson," she replied, a smile playing on her lips. "John and I thought it would be a nice gesture if we had one of your staff go to the planet and help a few of the villagers who were sick. He said there was just a handful, three or four at the most. I was going to ask you to go, but taking a look at you now—"

She paused as Carson waved his hand, dismissing her thought. "I can go."

"But you're exhausted."

"Aye, but I've slept all I can right now."

"Okay, then it's settled. I'll have Major Lorne accompany you."

"Fine," he replied, rising to his feet. "When did you want us to leave?"

"As soon as you can pull everything together. Colonel Sheppard mentioned there was a clearing not far from the village you could use as a landing pad. It'll save you the three-hour hike through the forest."

"Aye. My feet'll thank you greatly for that. I should be ready within the hour."

"Good. I'll let Major Lorne know and have him meet you in the jumper bay."

Carson nodded once before turning and walking out of her office and into the control room. She just wished all trade negotiations went as well as this one was. They needed all the friends they could find.

***

Ronon glanced up, watching as the puddlejumper banked easily before it settled into the small field Sheppard had directed them to land in. A few moments later and the rear door slowly eased its way open, thumping to the ground with a solid sound. Carson Beckett emerged, a large case in his hand, with Major Lorne following behind.

Taking a few steps closer, he waited patiently while the two men looked around, finally spotting the Satedan and began moving toward him.

"Morning, Ronon," Beckett said once he got closer, offering a smile. "How are the negotiations going?"

He shrugged. "Slow."

One of the major's eyebrow rose, but he didn't comment. Both men looked tired, exhausted even. He hoped that there wasn't going to be any fighting or Wraith cullings while they were here. Although, come to think of it, maybe the Wraith would avoid them since they already looked dead on their feet.

"Did the Colonel happen to mention where he wanted me to set up?" Beckett asked, drawing Ronon's attention back to the present.

"Yeah," Ronon began as he turned to lead the way, grabbing the cumbersome case from the doctor's hands. "This way."

After a muttered thank you from Beckett, they followed behind him in silence as they weaved their way through a short patch of forest to the village. There was a medical center already here, primitive as it was, but Sheppard and Soony had decided it would be a perfect place for the doctor to conduct his examinations. It was amusing to him that Weir and Sheppard thought it was a good idea to inflict needles on innocent populations.

Although, he was not sure about a lot of things these days. It seemed the Atlanteans were even stranger than he thought. It was as if as soon as he started to know them, or think he knew them, something would happen and they'd react a different way entirely. And they thought he was strange… At least he was consistent.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts that were lodging in his mind, he gestured to the large building they were approaching. "Sheppard wants to you set up in here. One of the local doctors is interested in learning more about your methods."

"Oh, joy," muttered Lorne, his voice barely loud enough to carry, but Ronan heard it. He flashed the man a quick smile before ducking into the building.

He introduced Beckett and Lorne to the village doctor—Guian—and waited a few moments as they began to talk, the doctor pointing to a room where Beckett would be able to set up his supplies. Ronon handed off the case to Lorne as they moved to the rear of the structure following Guian as he talked at length about some kind of fungus he was having problems treating.

Once he was sure they were in good hands, he ducked back outside, pausing to stretch before he walked back to the large hall where Sheppard and Teyla were still working on the negotiations. For all the hoops they were jumping through, it felt like they were trying to convince them to give up their firstborns instead of just some grain and vegetables.

Slow didn't quite explain how the negotiations were going. If they got any slower, he swore they'd start going backwards in time. If it weren't for Teyla he would have gotten to the point a little quicker, but it wasn't up to him. He was there just to scowl and scare anyone who might want to put a hole in any member of his team.

He could do that.

***

Radek Zelenka glanced up from his laptop, his eyes searching the room carefully. It was quiet but not silent. The sounds of clicking keys on keyboards, flicking switches, and murmurs reached his ears.

But what had piqued him to look up?

He continued to gaze around the lab, watching the various scientists working diligently on their projects. Two were in the corner going over the results from an experiment they'd run this morning. Nothing had blown up, but it hadn't gone exactly as they'd anticipated. Once the results were studied, torn apart, re-written, and examined again they'd repeat the test—hopefully with a better outcome and no explosions.

He sighed, realizing that he should probably go down to the lab Katie Brown had commandeered. Rodney swore she was creating some kind of man-eating plant down there. Had even taken to referring to one of her experiments as Audrey. What she saw in him, Radek would never know, but she was smitten—which was why she didn't punch him in the mouth when he made stupid ass comments like that. At least he hadn't called her Seymour to her face—yet.

And then there was Kavanaugh. He was not up to the verbal fencing match today, but the man's experiments and tests needed to be watched on a daily basis—if not hourly. He did not have the energy to fix the damage from another of his mistakes. The last one had smelled horrible and had taken nearly two days to get the lab back to rights.

Glancing down at his laptop screen, he sighed. His 'to-do' list kept getting longer. Some of the jumpers needed maintenance crews to look them over and then the Wraith technology they'd recently recovered was still being examined by another team of scientists. He needed a progress report in order to update Doctor Weir—and it was nearly 1800 hours as is. The day had quickly gotten away from him. She'd also requested that he suggest several possible planets for recon missions that might have Ancient technology. That would require him to search through the database and cross-reference the addresses with planets visited and those already on the mission roster. It was not hard, but it took time. And then there was his own research, which kept getting pushed to the back.

And then there was the problem with the transporter on the East Pier that the repair crew couldn't seem to fix and the strange electrical short that kept showing up on the Northwest Pier. There was still a lot of damage from the Wraith attack that had yet to be repaired, but they were getting there slowly. It just took time.

And time was always in short supply.

At one point in time when he was back on Earth, he wished for longer days so he could enjoy life a little more, have just enough time to work and do the things he always put off. When he'd first come to Atlantis with her twenty-seven hour days, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. But that was before the Wraith came. Before people started dying.

The more time he had, the less time remained. He wished he'd known that before he'd moved to another galaxy.

Sighing, he logged off his laptop, locking it down before moving toward the door. He might as well go and check on Kavanaugh before the lower level of the science section exploded in a flash of metal and energy. He did not feel like dying today and tomorrow wasn't looking good either.

Perhaps he should have stayed on Earth. At least he wouldn't have to worry so much about life-sucking aliens.

But then again, how could he pass up the opportunity to bring Star Trek to life?

***

Teyla rose, exchanging parting comments with Soony before leading Ronon and Colonel Sheppard from the main hall and toward the building set aside for their use. Doctor Beckett and Major Lorne were to meet them to share a late evening meal. Sheppard's long strides brought him next to her a few moments later.

"That went well." His voice was quiet, reserved.

She nodded, glancing to her companions before turning back to the path under her feet. The dim light made travel through the village difficult due to the exposed tree roots and uneven surfaces. "I am most gratified to see how willing Soony is for this alliance. I believe it will bring much to all of us."

Ronon moved ahead of them. Even in the half-light, she could see the muscles in his back were tense. She'd tried to talk to him before Sheppard woke this morning, insisting these people were good, that they were safe. He'd listened to her, respectfully, even asking a few pointed questions, but he'd shaken his head at the end, refusing to budge. He couldn't change what he was, he'd told her as if that explained everything. And, in a way, it did.

"I just find it hard to believe that grain is worth three days of negotiations," Sheppard commented.

"But is that not what Doctor Weir sent us to obtain? Even with the additional supplies we receive from your home world, we still need to be self-sufficient. What if Colonel Caldwell and the Daedalus cannot return? What would happen at that time?"

"I know, I know." He sighed softly. When he didn't continue she glanced to the side, watching him carefully. He was all darkness and shadows, the profile of his face sharp against the softness of nature surrounding them. Sheppard had changed since they'd first met. The burdens of responsibility weighed heavily on him, even now with Earth only a wormhole away. Instead of making it easier, it seemed only to complicate things further, to increase the worry and the load he already carried.

Before she could say anything to ease his mind, Ronon ushered them into the building they were using as their home while with the Mazurkians. Doctor Beckett and Major Lorne were already inside, hovering near the large table where several dishes were laid out—some covered, others uncovered—each with a half-filled plate in their hands. Both men looked up, guilt crossing their faces before settling into embarrassment.

"Nice of you to wait," Sheppard commented as he stepped up alongside the doctor and peered down at the food littering his plate.

"We've been waiting, Colonel. Just because you decide to take your good ol' time to get here doesn't mean that I have to starve," Carson replied, his tone short. He looked tired, washed out. She was surprised Doctor Weir would have sent both the Major and the Doctor to the planet in their current condition. They had not heard of any problems on Atlantis to warrant his obvious exhaustion.

"Doctor," Teyla said as she reached for a plate, sliding up to Beckett's left side. "Is everything well on Atlantis? You do not look yourself."

"Aye, lassie," he said, turning a small smile toward her as he reached for a piece of bread from the basket in the middle of the table. "Been burning the midnight oil the past few days with the exams on the mainland that had to get done."

Her stomach fluttered. "Exams? Is there something wrong?"

"Nae, nothing. Just the usual check-ups. A few Athosians have a wee bit of a virus. The labs are running some tests, but I don't think there's anything to worry about."

Teyla's forehead creased in confusion. "Were they not scheduled for next week?"

"That's what I thought," he said without elaborating, his body stiffening a little before he turned back to the food spread across the table. Moving steadily, he took several more spoonfuls from the various dishes before turning to the chairs lining the side of the room.

Silence descended upon the room, each person hiding within their own minds. They all retrieved food and settled in to eat, eyes down, intent on the physical aspects of the meal.

"So," Lorne began, his voice hesitant, "how much longer until everything is all hammered out?"

Teyla thanked him with a smile, grateful for the conversation, for the opportunity to escape the silence. "I am confident that negotiations will be complete tomorrow."

"So, what exactly are we going to have to give them and what are we getting?"

"In exchange for food and seeds for our next planning season, we have agreed—in theory—to provide medical assistance, knowledge of other races who can similarly benefit from such trading partnerships, and advice on how to produce higher yielding crops. I believe it may be possible to ask some of the science staff to aid in that endeavor. They have been more than willing in the past."

Lorne nodded, scraping his dish with the piece of bread he was grasping between his fingers, sopping up the remains of the meat and gravy puddling at the bottom. He eyed the table before popping the last bite in his mouth as if he were trying to decide if it was worth it to get more.

"There is plenty of food remaining. Please, help yourself," she said, her smile broadening as he rose a moment later. "Please," she continued, gesturing with her free hand toward the table, "they have prepared the food especially for us and would be insulted if we did not eat to satisfaction. This is the type of food we shall have the opportunity to bring back to Atlantis."

Ronon snorted into his bowl.

"Perhaps you should ask for the recipes, too," Beckett said, glancing up from his own half-full dish. "I'm not sure the cooks will know what to do with half this stuff."

"The cooks on Atlantis are good at what they do," Ronon said already on his way across the room. He was just as unselfconscious about his eating habits as Doctor McKay. "They'll figure it out."

Beckett chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he went back to his meal. Teyla finished the last bite on her dish before setting it down on the floor beside her, leaning back against the pillows on the chair she'd claimed as her own when they'd arrived several days earlier. Sheppard was quiet, his eating mechanical.

"You are quiet tonight, Colonel. Is there something on your mind?" she asked, pinning her with a single glance.

With her eyes fixed on Sheppard, Teyla noticed that Beckett stilled at her question, his own eyes turning toward the other man. The low rumbling of Lorne's and Ronon's voices was comforting in its familiarity, helping to ease some of the tension that had formed in the small of her back.

Sheppard's lips thinned and he slowly released the breath he'd been holding before turning to her, an obviously forced smile on his face. "Nothing. Just enjoying the company and the food."

"You lie poorly."

His smile faltered as he turned away from her. His next words were harsh, direct. "I don't trust them."

"They have been nothing but welcoming and open. What have you seen to make you doubt their intentions?"

He shook his head and Teyla thought for a moment he was going to refuse to answer. His words came a few beats later. Confrontational. Demanding. "Don't you think four days is a bit much for grain negotiations? What takes so long? I guarantee they have other plans, that they're just stalling for time." His hand gestured wide as his voice rose in volume. "Have you even taken a look around this village? They haven't seen a culling here in a very long time. Don't you think it's strange? How come they've been spared when the majority of this galaxy has had close encounters with the Wraith? There's something wrong here."

"Just because they haven't been culled doesn't mean they're in league with the Wraith, Colonel," Beckett replied, the sound of his exhaustion and anger reflected in his voice, giving it an edge she wasn't familiar with.

"This doesn't feel right," he said, his eyes fixed on his hands, his fingers gripping the dish tightly. "I feel like they're manipulating us, using us, and I don't—." He stopped abruptly, rising to his feet. "I'm beat. You can stay up for as long as you like."

He moved quickly, his movements sharp. He dropped his plate on the edge of the table with so much force that the utensils bounced and nearly landed on the floor but were saved thanks to Lorne's quick reflexes. A few quick strides and he'd ducked into his room, the door slamming shut behind him.

"Well, that was interesting," Beckett said a few minutes later into the silence that had been left behind.

Teyla rose, stacking her plate with the Colonel's as Lorne and Ronon stood beside the table finishing the last bites from their second helpings. "It has been…difficult for the Colonel. He is accustomed to much different circumstances. He does not trust easily. The inactivity over the past days have made him uneasy."

"Uneasy does not explain _that_ ," Beckett said, gesturing toward the closed door with his fork.

She shrugged, her eyes lingering on the wood where he'd pointed. "He has had a difficult time as of late. He deserves our patience and our support."

She felt Lorne stiffen more than saw him, but he was silent. It was the doctor who commented once again, the anger replaced with weariness. "He's not the only one, lassie."

She met his eyes, inclining her head toward him an incremental amount.

Wishes of good nights echoed all around as everyone moved to their respective beds, leaving her standing at the table, her hands still holding the dishes she'd picked up. Sighing, she placed them where they belonged knowing someone would pick them up before morning came. Moving slowly down the hallway, she allowed the quiet of the house to settle on her, praying sleep would come easily tonight.

***

**_Day Seven_ **

Trying to hold back a yawn, John Sheppard shifted where he sat at Teyla's side only to be rewarded by a sidelong glance from the Athosian. He'd been through this now for the better part of four days. He knew the routine. It just didn't make it any more pleasant.

"Yes," Teyla was saying, "I believe we can provide medical training as well as some medicines. I will have to confirm this with both Doctor Beckett and Doctor Weir, of course."

"Of course," Soony replied, inclining his head toward her, a half-smile plastered on his face. After a moment more, he glanced between the aids stationed at his sides and continued, his voice formal his stature regal. "Teyla Emmagen of Atlantis, Colonel Sheppard of Atlantis, and Ronon Dex of Atlantis, I wish to thank you for agreeing to abide by our customs although they are not your own. I believe this arrangement will bring much harmony to both of our peoples."

He rose swiftly, his hands gesturing widely.

John tensed. This was not part of the morning routine.

Several forms entered from all sides, swarming into the room. He moved as if to rise, his hand immediately reaching for the sidearm nestled in his thigh holster, but Teyla's hand on his arm stilled his movements.

He glanced sharply at her and she shook her head, her eyes fixed on the people filling the room, calmness and satisfaction radiating off her in waves.

Suddenly the table before him filled. Sacks of grain appeared along with baskets and bushels of fruit and vegetables. Wineskins full of liquor rested against loaves of freshly baked breads. Other goods also piled on top until he thought the table would break under the weight. And through it all, Sonny stood, his arms held out wide, a smile firmly fixed on his face.

When all the movement finally stopped, John continued to stare.

Sonny's voice, while quiet, reached every corner of the room. "And so let this demonstrate our commitment to this treaty. May it continue until times long-lasting, in plenty and in friendship."

Sonny clapped his hands together and the room burst once again into chatter. John found himself pulled to his feet, arms wrapping around him in hugs before they passed him off to others. He wasn't sure how to react and fought the urge to shove himself away from the obvious well-wishers. He lost Teyla and Ronon in the crowd, but as the minutes passed by the throngs thinned out, leaving only the negotiating parties behind.

Teyla, standing nearly in the same place she'd started while John was on the other side of the room, looked flushed but immensely happy. "Thank you for your trust and your friendship. I look forward to further visits, but we must—"

"Return," Soony finished, a sad smile on his face. "I know. I have enjoyed your company once again. May the time not be as prolonged as once before."

"I agree," she said. "Be well, my friend, and thank you."

Soony bowed at the waist before turning and walking from the room, his aides following closely behind. A few minutes later both Beckett and Lorne entered, surprise and worry on their faces.

"We saw all these people lining up outside and weren't sure what was happening." Lorne admitted, his eyes drifting over the pile of goods on the low table. "Teyla had assured us that there wasn't going to be any strange rituals that required blood to be spilled or sacrifices to be made, so we waited outside."

"Aye," Carson added. "If you all had started screaming we'd have come running."

John's eyebrow rose at the comment, but he let it go when he saw the amusement on Lorne's face. "You knew about this?"

The major nodded. "We spoke to Teyla this morning before you headed over here. She told us what to expect."

"I wish someone had thought to include me in that conversation," Sheppard growled, aiming a particularly scathing look at the woman standing beside Ronon.

She merely returned the glance. "You did not ask."

Before John could utter a reply, Ronon moved, hefting a large bag of grain over his shoulder. "We need to get this to the jumper." A few seconds later and he was already out the door.

Everyone responded, picking up whatever they could carry before they headed outside, following Ronon to the puddlejumper. When he was the last one in the room, he sighed and bent down, lifting one of the larger sacks to his shoulder. Huffing under the weight, he headed out. There was a lot to move, and if he wanted to get home in time for dinner he had better hustle.

***

Clutching his tablet and assorted papers and folders in his arms, Radek Zelenka tried to shift just enough to free his hand to shove his glasses back into place as he hurried up the stairs to the control room. He was nearly late and he had no desire to make Elizabeth wait longer than she had to—especially for the painful meeting they were about to have.

Rounding the corner, he glanced ahead, his eyes skating over the area, noting the personnel manning the various stations. The sergeant at the gate controls offered a brief smile and a nod as Radek walked past, and he returned the gesture with a slight tilt of his head.

As he got closer to Elizabeth's office, he noticed she was concentrating on the screen in front of her, her elbows propped up on the edge of the desk, her brow furrowed. Slowing down as he reached the door, he shifted his pile enough to get his hand free once again so he could knock lightly on the doorframe. As soon as his knuckles made contact, though, he felt the papers begin to slide and only his quick movement stopped everything from hitting the floor. The scrape of metal against the floor indicated that he'd made a grand entrance.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, fine," he muttered, daring a glance at the woman now standing to the side of her desk as if she'd stopped mid-stride. He moved a few steps into her office, setting the errant documents on a nearby chair. "I did not intend to make such an entrance as this," he apologized, waving his hand absently toward the door.

"That's fine, Radek. As long as everything is safe and sound. I know how pesky all that paperwork can be. Tends to get away from us sometimes."

He looked up half in surprise, not expecting her words. The curl of her mouth into a smile indicated that she was indeed joking.

"Ah, yes," he said, turning back to his reports, straightening them. "I must admit that I do not enjoy this aspect of Rodney's job, actually most of his job. I will be most happy to give it all back to him."

"Really?" she asked, her voice holding a curious tone. "I thought this would be an opportunity all scientists would want, the ability to run an entire department, to be the one with all the answers."

"As much as it helps my ego," Radek said, sinking down into a nearby chair as Elizabeth returned to her own seat, "I find it far too complicated. I prefer my experiments, my research. Much more orderly. It does not require me to baby-sit scientists who should know better."

"Who is it this time?"

"Kavanaugh, of course. Doctor Biro believes the dye will wear off in a few days. The lab, however, will need extensive decontamination before he will be able to continue his work. He has already begun demanding a new location."

Elizabeth chuckled. "Do I want to know what he was doing?"

Radek shook his head. "No. I did not want to know myself, however…"

"You had no choice in the matter," she said, her smile fading. She paused, her eyes holding his gaze steadily. "Are you comfortable with Rodney going back to work tomorrow?"

"Why do you ask this? Is his time not up?" Radek could feel his eyes widening behind his glasses. He wasn't sure he could take another week of this madness.

"His week of confinement will be complete by the end of today, but before I allowed him to return to his duties and turned everything back over to him I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with the situation."

"Of course. Why would I not be? This is Rodney's department, yes? I'm merely keeping his chair warm, metaphorically speaking. His chair gives me backaches."

Her face showed her confusion that her words only emphasized. "Then you don't have a problem with him resuming his duties as head of the science department?"

"No. Should I?" He waved his hand absently in the air. "Did he make a mistake? Yes. Did he insult me in public? Yes, but that was not the first time and it will not be last." Radek shrugged. "He is a genius when it comes to Ancient technology, but do not tell him I say so. He is where he needs to be."

Elizabeth nodded, pursing her lips. "Very well. I still need to discuss this with Colonel Sheppard when he returns, but it seems that Doctor McKay will probably be reporting for work tomorrow morning. I would appreciate it if you could be here when we meet with him later today."

"Are you certain?" Radek asked, his eyebrow drawing in close.

"Yes. You are the head of the science department until tomorrow morning and I believe you should be present."

"Then I shall be here as you request."

"Now," she began, glancing down at her computer screen, "I believe we have to go over some of the daily reports and also take a look at what you've discovered in the Ancient database."

Radek nodded. There was still a lot of work to be done before he could go back to the peace and quiet of his own lab and his own research. At least there was a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel—at least until Rodney pissed someone off or screwed something up big time again.

The yelling and the shouting and the whining he could stand. It was normal.

***

"And then when they finished filling the table with food and grain and anything else that would fit, Soony gave a speech and then we ended up in the middle of the sixties. Peace, love, and happiness," Colonel Sheppard commented, leaning back, his hands resting on the arm of his chair. Lorne swore that if it didn't have wheels, the colonel would have had it up on two legs right now, threatening to careen back into the wall behind him. One day, Lorne was certain, Sheppard would try it with the wheeled office chairs. It was more a matter of when than if.

"The sixties, John?"

"You know," he replied to Weir, picking up one of his hands to wave as if that would somehow explain everything. Apparently, the major wasn't sure how to word it exactly, settling for simple. "Hugging. They started hugging everyone in sight."

"Hugging is part of the traditional Mazurkian customs especially when closing a trade agreement," Teyla replied, her voice level, but Lorne could see the tension in the Athosian's shoulders. A few months ago he couldn't read most of the personnel on Atlantis, let alone those who were born in another galaxy. Sometimes that was still a hard idea to wrap his mind around. But now, with a just a single glance he could get a general sense of everyone. Being military and part of the security force, it was his job, but this was something he'd always been able to do. For some reason, the sense was just heightened here.

"Well," Sheppard replied as he shifted once again, his elbows coming to rest on the table as he glared across at Teyla, "I would have appreciated some warning."

Lorne raised an eyebrow at Sheppard's tone and his argumentative posture, but remained silent. Lorne sure as hell wasn't going to argue with his commanding officer in public, even though he was wrong. Teyla had informed them of what was going to happen. Sheppard just wasn't there at the time, deciding to take an early morning walk back to the jumper.

"I apologize, Colonel," Teyla replied calmly, her voice strangely subdued and even although Lorne knew she was annoyed at him. "I shall endeavor to be more cognizant in the future of such information. Please forgive my lapse in this instance."

Sheppard shifted in his chair and Lorne saw a look of guilt briefly cross his face before he shut down again, his unemotional mask snapping back in place. He nodded once, briskly. "It's okay. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

"Anything else I should know about?" Weir asked, looking around the conference room. "Carson?"

The doctor shook his head, the weariness from the past several days wearing heavily on him. "They're all relatively healthy and their doctors are interested in learning more from us. Some courses on basic first aid procedures might be a good thing."

Weir nodded, jotting some notes down on her PDA. "I think that can be arranged easily enough." She paused for a moment before turning to Lorne. "The supplies?"

"Are being checked over to make sure nothing extra was added. I didn't think we wanted any surprises or pests of the four-legged kind. Then they'll be placed in the appropriate storage facilities."

"Good, good." A few more scribbles and scratches on the electronic pad and she raised her head again, scanning the room, her eyes narrowed, her lips thin. There was something else going on behind her hazel eyes, but he was almost certain it wasn't about the briefing. His supposition was confirmed with her next words. "If that's all, you're dismissed. Good work. Colonel Sheppard, if you can remain, we have a few more things to go over."

"Of course," he replied, remaining in his chair, his arms resting heavily on the table as everyone else rose, striding out through the conference room doors accompanied by low conversation.

"Major," Weir called out before he crossed the threshold into the control room, making him turn back toward her.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Can you ask Doctor Zelenka to join us in a few minutes?"

Lorne nodded. "Of course. Anything else?"

"Give us about thirty minutes and then please escort Doctor McKay here."

He felt his eyes widen, and tried to school his features. "Yes, ma'am. He'll be here."

"Thank you, Major," Weir replied, her tone dismissing him as she turned her gaze back to Sheppard sitting across the table. As he left, the doors closed behind him. While he wished he could be a fly on the wall for the conversation going on in there, he knew one thing for certain—he did not want to be in McKay's shoes in thirty minutes.

***

Elizabeth turned back to her PDA, making a few more notes on the small screen as she waited for the doors to the conference room to close completely. They could have done this in her office she knew, but there was something off about John. It might be better here, behind closed and opaque doors.

Looking up, she narrowed her eyes as she openly studied him, watching as he shifted and moved in his chair, his dark eyes holding hers easily, daring her to say something, to provoke him. She was surprised to see the anger still in their depths even after all this time had passed. Her own ire had cooled, not entirely, but a week without Rodney beating down her door for one thing or another had been pleasant. She'd even enjoyed her meetings with Doctor Zelenka. He was so very different than the egotistical scientist she normally dealt with. While he wasn't as smooth or polished as McKay, he was just as detailed, and his tone and temperament was much more subdued.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly, the words coming too fast.

She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, tapping the stylus against her chin. "Let's try that again, shall we? What's wrong?"

He shook his head, the muscles along his jaw tightening. "Nothing, really." He offered a weak shrug. "Been a long week."

"Yes, but compared to most, somewhat quiet, apart from the mass hugging you recently experienced, of course," she said with a gentle smile.

"Apart from that, yes, I guess," he said, glancing down, a smile threatening to find a home on his lips. It was short-lived however, because when he raised his head any ghost of a smile that she'd thought she'd seen was gone. "That was unsettling. You would have thought it was downright odd if you'd been there too."

"I'm not even going to try to imagine what you went through," Elizabeth said, finding it hard to picture the event in her mind especially with the military commander was in his current mood. "But, that's not why I asked you to stay."

"McKay." The name came out quickly, the tone disdainful. It seemed the scientist was still the source of his mood.

"McKay," she repeated, nodding her head. "I spoke with Doctor Zelenka earlier today and he seemed amenable to having Doctor McKay begin working again tomorrow morning."

"And?"

"And I wanted to discuss this with you before we meet with him."

"It's really not my decision, Elizabeth. I'm sure my guys have better things to do than stand outside his door, so they'll be happy it's over. But isn't he still grounded?"

"Yes," she nodded, "for the next three weeks."

"So let him work. That's what he's here to do."

"It means he'll resume all of his normal duties, including staff meetings."

"And?"

"And I wanted to make sure you were going to be comfortable with the situation."

John shifted in his seat, his arms crossing over his chest. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well," she said, gesturing to him, the stylus pointing toward Sheppard. "I can tell just from your body language that you still have some issues with him and you're probably angry. I hope this won't interfere with the operations on this base."

"Of course not. I know how to act in a professional capacity." If possible his tone got even frostier than it had been.

"I didn't mean to imply that you don't know how to act appropriately. I just wanted to make sure you were going to be comfortable working with him. He will be recommending planets and assigning scientists to your missions. I need to make sure you'll abide by his decisions."

"Shouldn’t be a problem."

She raised an eyebrow in question, his tone belying his words, but a knock on the conference room door interrupted her. She nodded to John, silently asking him to 'think' the door open. She was still frustrated by his ability to connect to the city, how Atlantis just opened up at his command. One of the panels of the conference room opened and Doctor Zelenka stepped inside, his expression hesitant.

"Major Lorne said you wished to see me."

She offered a smile and gestured for him to take a seat as the door closed once again at John's request. "Yes. Doctor McKay will be joining us shortly and I wanted to make sure we all were in agreement before he arrived."

"Yes, you mentioned it when we spoke earlier," he replied, obviously on edge as he shifted in the chair he'd taken, his hands fluttering about, refusing to remain still. "Should not all of the senior staff be present?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head slowly. "I don't think this concerns the entire senior staff. Because both of you were directly affected by his actions and you will be working with him closely over the next several weeks, your opinions are the ones that should be considered."

He nodded after a brief pause, her words obviously making some kind of sense to the scientist. "Very well. What did you wish to discuss?"

***

As he stopped outside Doctor McKay's door Major Lorne nodded briskly to Captain Andrews who was standing guard, puzzlement flashing through his mind. "I thought you were on the morning shift."

Andrews shrugged slightly. "Clark asked to swap with me. He said something about a training session he needed to attend. Since I didn't have any other pressing assignments I didn't mind changing shifts." He eyed Lorne carefully, a slightly sheepish expression crossing his face. "I hope that was okay. You weren't around to ask, sir."

Lorne nodded slowly. "It's fine. Just run it by me the next time before you change things."

"Yes, sir."

"So, how's the doctor been?"

"Quiet. Grabbed breakfast and lunch in the mess already today. He should be ready for dinner in about two hours."

"Good." Lorne turned to the door, waving his hand in front of the panel to signal the door chime. Andrews shifted uneasily on his feet. Raising an eyebrow, Lorne glanced to the side. "There a problem, Captain?"

"The door chime seems to have stopped working."

"Stopped working?"

"I believe Doctor McKay didn't want to be disturbed at one point a day or so ago and he…seems to have dismantled it from the other side."

Lorne's eyebrows rose. "And why might he have done that?"

"You know how he gets. Claimed he was working on some important project and he didn't want to be interrupted." Andrews shrugged. "We were only trying to make sure he ate regularly. Hyperglycemia and all."

"Is he answering knocks?"

"Generally. When he's in the mood."

Lorne sighed, moving his hand to knock loudly on the door. Waiting a few beats, he knocked again. "McKay, open up."

When an answer wasn't forthcoming, Lorne closed his eyes briefly, forcing a security override on the system and thinking the door to unlock and open. It accommodated his request a moment later.

Stepping into the semi-lit room once the door slid open fully, Lorne glanced around, trying to locate the scientist. When at first glance he didn't see him, Lorne moved to the open balcony door. For someone who spent years inside in one lab or another, McKay certainly made use of every chance to spend time outside on Atlantis—not that he blamed him.

He spotted the casually-dressed scientist sitting with his back to the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, his laptop perched easily on his thighs, his fingers typing with both speed and fierceness as if he were beating the keys into submission.

Lorne leaned against the doorframe watching the engrossed scientist for several minutes before clearing his throat. "McKay?"

"It's about time you announced yourself, Major," McKay replied without looking up, his fingers never hesitating. "I was wondering how long you planned on standing there staring at me. I was starting to think you might have a strange fascination with my bare feet or something."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Lorne shook his head, his lips cracking a smile. "I didn't know you cared, Doc."

"I don't." He hit a few more keys, saving whatever it was he was working on before glancing up, squinting his eyes a little. Lorne was surprised at what he saw. It was obvious that the scientist had lost weight over the past several days, his face thinner, the circles under his eyes darker. The eyes themselves, though, were hard and cold, the whites redder than normal.

"You wanted something?"

Lorne shook himself slightly, dragging himself back to the conversation at hand and the man glaring up at him. "Doctor Weir wants to see you."

McKay raised an eyebrow, but didn't move. "She could have called and requested my presence, but it is apparent that she doesn't trust me to find my own way to her office. So am I to be marched there? Is it time for my final trial before a jury of my peers? Oh, wait. I don't have any of those here, so I guess I'll have to settle for you then."

"I’m just doing what Doctor Weir requested. I’m not here to give you a hard time."

"Sure." Rodney put his laptop next to him on the deck and slowly rose to his feet, bending down once he was fully upright to grab his computer before pushing past Lorne into his quarters. "And I thought I had locked the door."

"You did," he replied, watching as McKay bounded around the clean room. "You weren't answering."

"Oh, I wonder why," McKay replied, gesturing toward the open wall panel as he ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The cover had been removed and there were several crystals missing. Lorne vaguely remembered seeing them on the desk when he'd walked in.

"I knocked several times," Lorne replied, raising his voice to be heard in the other room.

McKay appeared a moment later. "And I was apparently busy and did not want to be disturbed. It seems that my forced confinement also meant that I gave up all my rights of privacy as well. Are you reading my emails too?"

"I wouldn't even know how to get into your system and besides, I have no intention of reading your emails."

"Well, it's good to know that some of the military failed their computer systems hacking courses." McKay sat down on the edge of his bed, pulling on socks and sneakers, obviously not changing out of his jeans and T-shirt.

"And you know that you need to meet with Doctor Weir?"

"Yes, you did mention that several minutes ago." He speared Lorne with a condescending glance. "Are you having problems with your short-term memory? I know mine is working just fine, but perhaps you need to stop and see Carson. He might be able to give you something for that. He's into all that voodoo." McKay wiggled his fingers as if that helped to explain the terminology.

Lorne tried not to sigh, but it was hard. McKay was in one of his more exasperating moods. "I was merely pointing it out."

"I've been locked in my quarters for a week and denied any chance to do real work, something that might help save the city from certain doom when the Wraith come next. Every minute I'm away from my lab is another minute when there's no life-altering discovery. If Elizabeth wants to talk to me, she can do so whether or not I'm in uniform. It's not as if the very clothing on my body will stop her from forming complete sentences. She, unlike most people on this base, knows how to speak in compound sentences."

"Look," Lorne said, taking a few steps toward the bed, forcing McKay to raise his head at an awkward angle in order to keep eye contact. "I've been on base for less than twelve hours and in addition to escorting you to the main conference room I wanted to see how you were doing. This whole situation, in my opinion, has gotten out of hand, but I have no say as to what goes on here. I'd recommend making nice with Doctor Weir, Colonel Sheppard, and Doctor Zelenka in there. But since you're the genius, I guess you can figure things out all by yourself."

Lorne turned to leave, only to be stopped by McKay's voice when he was a foot from the door.

"Major, wait."

He turned, his arms folded over his chest, standing in silence.

McKay looked away, finding his feet and hands far more interesting for several seconds before standing up and moving toward him, his eyes finally meeting Lorne's once again. "I appreciate your concern, Major. I do."

Lorne eyed him for a moment before nodding slightly. "Nervous?"

The scientist bobbed his head. "I don't think I can do this for another week."

"I don’t have any advice for you, Doc, since I don't know what they want."

"Blood?" McKay chuckled humorlessly. "Although I think I give Carson more than enough for his fiendish experiments."

"There weren't any needles in the room when I left if that's any consolation."

"A little, Major, a little." Rodney gestured to the door as it slid open with his silent command. "Should we get going?"

Lorne nodded, moving into the hallway with the scientist trailing behind. "Andrews," he said pausing, "you're off of guard duty for the rest of the day and I think this should be it. If anything changes, I'll let you know."

"Yes, sir," Andrews replied, turning to walk down the corridor in the other direction as the door to McKay's quarters slid shut.

"You're awfully confident," McKay said a moment later as they approached the nearest transporter.

Lorne shrugged. "Why not? You've done everything they asked of you, right? You haven't made a menace of yourself all week and you haven't complained. Am I right?"

They stepped inside the small transporter and Lorne tapped the image of the central tower.

"I guess."

"So, why would they add more time onto your so-called sentence?"

"Because they hate me?"

"They don't hate you, McKay."

"Okay, then. They don't trust me."

Lorne shook his head a little as the transporter door opened. "Maybe," he said conceding the scientist's point, watching as McKay's wrung his hands together. "But making you miserable won't make things any better for the city in the long run. And I think they trust you more than you trust yourself right now. Give yourself time. You're grounded for three more weeks, right?"

McKay nodded, his face a misery. "If I don't screw this up."

"You're a genius, how can you do that?"

"Trust me, Major, my ego and I have screwed up more times than you know."

McKay pushed ahead as he hurried up the stairs to the main conference room, leaving Lorne to trail behind. As the scientist reached the door, he took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. Raising his hand, he knocked loudly, the door parting before him a moment later.

Offering a prayer to whatever god was listening, Lorne settled down to wait until the yelling and screaming was over.

***

Elizabeth Weir watched Doctor McKay carefully as he strode into the room, his body a miss-mash of signals. With his head held high, a smug expression firmly in place, he settled himself into one of the open chairs as the door closed behind him, for all intents and purposes the confident and arrogant scientist they all knew.

But, Elizabeth saw something different.

It was more than his casual clothes. She'd seen him many times in jeans and t-shirts or sweatshirts. No matter what he wore, the man underneath always remained the same to her, a constant even in the most complicated and convoluted times.

He looked worn out, his face more pale than she remembered seeing a week ago. The starkness of his skin made the dark circles stand out all the more. If possible, he even looked thinner though she knew he'd been eating regularly since she'd been reading the daily reports. Something had changed.

But now, she saw his slight hesitations, his shaking hand as he pulled the chair back. Near his hairline, a small line of sweat had appeared. His eyes refused to remain steady. It was obvious that he didn't want to meet anyone's gaze, his eyes jumping around the room continually, refusing to settle on any one thing. If she looked closely enough, she thought she could see the beginnings of a ring of sweat forming near his armpits. All of his actions were carefully controlled, but the signals were all there—if you paid attention.

He was nervous as hell and trying not to show it.

It was an interesting observation. Apparently this past week of confinement had helped the scientist find some kind of perspective on the whole situation. So much for Beckett's concerns about McKay's fragile nature.

Her gaze slid to Radek, sitting uncomfortably in his chair, his shoulders rounded as if he were trying to hunch over, to make himself as small as possible, to hide himself in the middle of the room. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, his chin resting on one hand, while the fingers on his other hand tapped soundlessly against the tabletop.

John had straightened when McKay entered, no longer slouching in the chair as he'd been before. His eyes followed the scientist's walk through the room, narrowing as McKay settled into his seat. What John was waiting for, Elizabeth didn't know. Was he waiting for him to twitch, to say something, do something? He continued to study him, his eyes fixed on the physicist.

"Thank you for joining us, Doctor McKay," Weir finally said as her gaze slid back to Rodney, his eyes barely connecting with hers before they were moving again, this time concentrating on a spot somewhere over her left shoulder.

"Major Lorne didn't give me much of a choice."

Her jaw tightened at his tone. It was pure Rodney that much was sure. "He was under orders to escort you here, so yes, he did not have much choice in the matter, nor did you."

McKay ducked his head, acknowledging her comment, but did not make one of his own. She continued a few beats later.

"We're here to discuss how we're going to proceed with the next several weeks. Both Doctor Zelenka and Colonel Sheppard have suggested that we continue as we'd already planned, which means that you will be returning to perform your duties as chief science officer beginning tomorrow morning." McKay's eyes widened at her statement, his eyes flicking toward the other two men in the room as surprise shifted across his face before it settled down into something less smug and more hopeful.

"I am in agreement with their recommendation in this matter."

She waited, letting the words settle over him. This time his eyes slowed down, meeting hers hesitatingly, as if the faintest of movement on her part would send them flying off again.

"Is that it?"

Weir inclined her head to the side a little, breaking their gaze as she glanced down at her PDA. "Almost."

A single "oh" fell from his lips, the word breathy and filled with weight.

"As discussed," she continued a moment later, her eyes taking in John and Radek with a single glance, "you will resume all of your duties as Atlantis CSO, however, you will remain restricted to the base for the next three weeks. Also, Doctor Zelenka has agreed to provide weekly reports on your projects. He will be acting as my eyes and ears during this period. Please treat him with the respect you accord me. Am I understood?"

McKay swallowed, his mouth tightening, his lips forming a thin line. "Clearly."

"Do you have any questions for any of us?"

McKay's eyes moved slowly around the room, meeting the other men's eyes briefly before continuing on.

"Just so I have this straight," he began, leaning forward, his forearms resting on the table, his hands gesturing while he spoke. "Radek, here, is going to be looking over my shoulder while I go about doing my job. A job, I might add, that was given to me nearly two years ago. Do I have to ask his permission every step along the way? And will Colonel Sheppard's friends be shadowing me as well?"

The muscles in Weir's back tightened at his tone, but she let it go. "Doctor Zelenka will merely be providing a weekly report. You are to go about your duties normally. And no, there will be no need for guards unless, of course, you would prefer to have them."

"No, a week of close contact with the Marines is plenty for me." McKay paused again, glancing at Sheppard whose eyes hadn't budged. "Am I also to attend senior staff meetings during this time?"

"Yes," Weir nodded. "Apart from your off-base restrictions, nothing has changed in your job description."

"Fine." McKay slid his hands back, holding onto the edge of the table, as if he were preparing to shove his chair back. "Anything else?"

"One other thing," Weir replied, noticing Radek's raised eyebrow. This she'd added as soon as McKay had walked in the door. "I want Carson to examine you before you begin work tomorrow. Have Major Lorne escort you there before you return to your quarters."

"I'm still under guard?"

"Until tomorrow, yes. I'd recommend not giving the Major a hard time."

"Fine." This time Rodney pushed back away from the table, rising to his feet. "If there's nothing else…"

"You're dismissed," she nodded, watching as he strode out the door, pausing at Lorne's side apparently to tell him what was next on their agenda. The Major glanced toward her in question and she nodded once, confirming Rodney's instructions.

As they headed through the control room, Weir turned her attention to the two men still seated in the conference room with her. "Well, I think that about does it."

***

"Weir to Beckett."

Carson jumped a little as the voice rang out in his ear. Even after nearly two years of wearing the stupid earpieces, he got startled whenever he was paged—especially if he was in the middle of something. Like now.

The techs in the lab had finally finished their analysis of the virus that some of the Athosians on the mainland had come down with and he'd spent the better part of the day wading through the reports and lab results. It wasn't anything deadly. Nothing life threatening, but it could end up crippling the Atlantean population if it got lose on the base.

So, he'd ended up chained to his desk as soon as he had stepped back through the wormhole and received his post-mission check from Doctor Biro. It was still odd to be on the receiving end of one of those.

Taking a deep breath to steady his frantically beating heart, Carson lifted his hand to click his radio on while he began pulling the pages that had spilled out of his fingers back together. He hoped he didn't sound like he'd just run a race.

"Beckett."

"Sorry to bother you, Carson, but I just sent Doctor McKay down. He's looking a little peaked and I want to make sure he's up to start working tomorrow morning."

"Peaked?" he asked, sitting up straighter as his brows drew together. He knew he should have made the time to stop there the other day.

"Paler. Dark circles. Might be nothing." He could see her shrug in his mind's eye.

"Paler than he normally is? That's not good although he hasn't been getting out much lately come to think of it. Aye. I'll give him a thorough going over. Anything else?"

"Let me know what you find."

"I will. Beckett out."

Dropping the papers onto the top of his report-covered desk, he rubbed his hands briskly across his face, trying to wipe the weariness away. Checking his watch, he realized it was nearly time for dinner. Where had the day gone?

Pushing himself up from his desk, his chair sliding back to hit the wall behind, he moved slowly into the main part of the infirmary just as the doors opened to reveal a sour-looking—and pale—Rodney McKay along with his ever-present shadow, Major Lorne.

Carson flashed the Major a quick nod before he set his sights fully on the scientist. "Well, Rodney, what brings you here?"

He came to a stop and his arms crossed over his chest. Tilting his chin up, he looked down at Carson. "Elizabeth sent me. I'm surprised she didn't call ahead. I would have if I were in her position, just to make sure I'd followed her instructions to the letter and also to warn you about the foul-tempered scientist was on his way. Can't ever be too careful."

Beckett's eyebrow scooted upward, but he didn't rise to the bait. Rodney knew Elizabeth far too well it seemed. Gesturing toward one of the exam beds with one hand, he shot Lorne a quick 'you can leave now' look as Rodney huffed and moved past him. "So, what seems to be the problem?" He asked the question once the scientist settled on the bed and the infirmary door swooshed closed as Lorne went to go stand outside.

"You tell me, Carson, isn't that your job? I’m just following directions like a good little lemming."

Frowning, Beckett moved toward the side table. "Lemming, eh? Well, then push up your sleeve," he ordered. After another long-suffering sigh, Carson heard the rustle of clothing and turned, finding Rodney rolling his eyes and shoving his t-shirt sleeve somewhere north of this elbow. Wrapping the blood-pressure cuff around his upper arm, Carson quickly got to work, taking readings and drawing blood—under protest from Rodney.

Elizabeth had been correct. McKay didn't look right. The normally pale Canadian was a few shades lighter than usual, his eyes redder than they should have been for someone not on the clock. He was a few pounds lighter than the last time he'd been given a thorough check-up and his blood pressure was still borderline.

Carson stepped back, jotting down several things on Rodney's chart. Pursing his lips, he glanced up at the strangely silent man. Everything seemed normal, at least medically speaking for Rodney, but it didn't explain why his radar was tweeting at him. There was something else going on.

Tapping his stylus on his lips, Carson narrowed his eyes, finally getting a reaction from McKay.

"What?"

"I'm thinking."

"I can smell the furnace igniting in that head of yours. What voodoo spells are you going to curse me with this time?"

Carson shrugged, holding the chart closer to his chest.

Rodney's eyes widened. "Am I dying? Is that what this whole look is for? I can take it. Just tell me plainly. How long do I have?"

Rolling his eyes, Carson slapped the chart down on the adjacent bed and shook his head. "You're fine, Rodney. A little hypertensive, but that's normal for you. I have to wait for your blood to come back to get the rest of your results, but you seem fit as a fiddle." He paused, tilting his head to examine his friend's face again. "Are ye gettin' enough sleep? What have you been working on the past week that's been keeping you up to all hours of the night?"

McKay stiffened a little, his arms coming up to cross over his chest. Carson absently noted that several fingernails on Rodney's right hand were torn and ragged, but when the scientist opened his mouth, whatever thought Carson had had about them quickly fled looking for shelter somewhere else. "Believe it or not, Carson, I do have projects and papers that need to be completed. This whole situation just gave me time to make a decent amount of progress on them. Besides, what does it matter when I'm working on them, or for how long? It's my time. I can use it any way I want. It's not like I was given a whole lot of options."

"Okay, okay," he replied, waving his hands, trying to get Rodney to calm down. He really didn't want to argue with him. "No more projects tonight if you expect to go to work in the morning. Agreed?"

The muscles along the physicist's jaw tightened, but he nodded a moment later. "Fine. I can agree to that. Anything else?"

"Are you sure you're doing okay, otherwise? I know I haven't seen much of you the past few days."

"Look. I'm obviously tired and the longer you keep me here the less time I have to rest—as you've just informed me that I have to do before I can work in the morning. So, if there's nothing else…"

"Nae. That should be it. I'll make my report to Elizabeth in a little bit. Off ye go," Carson said, picking up the chart and moving away from the bed as McKay slid off, straightening his clothes and yanking down the sleeve of his t-shirt.

Rodney turned and walked quickly toward the infirmary doors, pausing only long enough to pick up his military escort. Carson shook his head part in exasperation, part in amusement. It was good to have a certain number of constants in this crazy galaxy and the physicist could definitely be considered a constant. Carson was also glad there was only one Rodney McKay on the base. He wasn't sure if he—or the base—could take two of them.

One was more than enough.

***

After stepping into the room, the door slid shut behind him and Rodney mentally locked it, letting his body slump back against the flat, cold surface. And, as an extra measure, he keyed it only to unlock under his direct command or in the case of a medical emergency. He didn't want any further contact with people today. He'd had his limit.

Only a few more hours and he was free—relatively speaking, of course, since Elizabeth seemed determined about going through with the rest of his sentence. At least now he could do something.

It had been a hellish day, starting before the sun actually rose. Since he'd managed to disable the door chime yesterday—several fingernails later—the terrors also known as upstanding Marines had taken to pounding on the door every now and then. The pounding was easier to ignore than the door chime, but it still tended to wake him at the most inconvenient times—like when he'd just fallen asleep.

There was no point in complaining. Not like anyone would do anything and it was a matter of his word against theirs. And at this point in time, he doubted anyone would believe him since it was something only a five-year-old would do. How'd they'd managed to make it this far was beyond McKay, but that wasn't the issue.

Andrews had forced him to get breakfast and lunch, not taking 'no' for an answer. How he'd managed to get in the room when Rodney swore he'd locked the door last night was a question he'd like answered, but nothing was forthcoming.

And, coming back from the infirmary, Lorne had dragged him to the mess hall—right in the middle of dinner. He'd been trying to go before the rush or after it, but tonight Lorne wasn't giving up. He'd taken his arm in hand and bodily moved him to the nearest transporter, hustling him into the room like some kind of errant, misbehaving ten-year-old.

He could imagine the entrance they'd made—Lorne tugging the resisting scientist along while Rodney continued to babble, words flowing from his mouth in an effort to make the Major stop, turn around, and leave him the hell alone.

He still remembered the silence than had fallen over the mess when they'd strode in. He could still hear Lorne's hushed words in his ear. "You sure do know how to make an entrance, McKay. Must be the genius in you."

Shaking off his hand, Rodney had moved to the food line, grabbing a tray and filling it with whatever his hand ran across. Lorne had stayed right behind him the entire time, chattering up a storm with one of the other Marines who had fallen in line behind them.

After getting splattered by the special of the night, Rodney had moved to the beverage area, snagging a full mug of coffee from a fresh-made pot. He'd nearly got two mugs, but he thought it might be pushing his luck. Aiming toward the door, Lorne's voice had stopped him in his tracks.

"Find a table, McKay."

Turning, he'd given the Major one of his more strident glances, but the other man had either ignored it or just shrugged it off. Lorne, instead, had nodded toward an empty table in the center of the room. "There's an open one there."

"Major—" he'd begun, fully intent on arguing, but Lorne's eyes had hardened, stopping him even before the rant began.

"McKay, I'm tired and hungry and I plan on eating in the mess like a normal human. Now, sit down and eat. You can get back to being a hermit in a while."

His shoulder muscles tightening, Rodney had choked off a reply, nodding his head once, sharply, as he turned and stalked to the table Lorne had pointed to. Slamming his tray on the surface, he'd yanked back the chair and dropped into it, pointedly ignoring the stares he knew were turned his way. He could already feel them.

Getting down to business, McKay had picked up his utensils and began eating, the food both too bland and too spicy. How the cooks managed to get that strange flavoring was something he didn't even want to consider. Lorne and the chattering airman joined him a few minutes later, their conversation going full throttle. He'd listened, refusing to interject anything even though Lorne had obviously left room for him to reply. Instead, he kept his head down, focusing on the pile of food still in his plate, watching as his fork moved it around, mixing it together until it became even more non-descript and unrecognizable.

"Hey, McKay."

Jerking his head up, he'd realized Lorne had probably called him several times, but he'd managed to zone out. The babbling airman was also gone, leaving just him and the Major, who was staring at him strangely.

"What?" McKay had grumbled, letting his fork drop with a clank to the tray.

"You okay?"

"Peachy, Major. Are we done with today's social experiment of 'make a fool out of the scientist'? It's your last chance before tomorrow rolls around."

"Would you just knock it off, McKay?" Lorne had hissed, leaning forward on his arms as he pushed his tray to the unoccupied side of the table. "Why is it that you insist on making things harder than they need to be?"

"I'm a genius. What you consider hard and what I consider hard are two very different things."

"When it comes to science, I'd have to agree, but we're talking about social interaction here, not nuclear fission."

"Oh, nice example there, Major. Taking lessons from Colonel Sheppard now? Or is it Doctor Weir? I'm getting them all confused."

Lorne had shaken his head then, glancing away. Rodney had taken the opportunity to scan the mess, finding it much more deserted than it had been when they'd walked in. Thankfully, no one in their immediate vicinity had been paying much attention to their conversation. However, he did notice Carson sitting with his team on the other side of the room. A twinge of hurt had flashed through his mind, but he quickly shoved it to the side, pushing it away.

"Are you done?" Lorne had finally asked several minutes later, drawing Rodney's attention back to the other man. Turning, his eyes dropped to his mostly-full plate.

"Yeah. I'm not very hungry. I'll just grab a few PowerBars for later."

"Fine," Lorne had said, rising to his feet. "Since you obviously don't want to be here, we should probably get moving."

Rodney nodded, following the Major's lead. He'd felt everyone's eyes on him as he had moved through the mess, dropping his tray in the appropriate place, picking up a handful of snacks for later along with a bottle of water.

Lorne had been standing at the entrance, waiting patiently. When he'd approached, Lorne gestured for Rodney to go first, quickly falling in beside him. The walk to his quarters had been completed in silence.

When the doors finally slid open, Lorne's hand had come up, resting on the frame, stopping McKay from shutting him out—literally and figuratively.

Turning, Rodney had offered the man one of his more condescending expressions. "You wanted something, Major?"

"I'll be out here until the clock officially clicks over into tomorrow. If you want to talk, you know where to find me."

Rodney had nodded once, unsure what to say, but it was apparently enough since Lorne had stepped back, his hand dropping to his side. He'd stepped inside then, the feeling of relief washing over him so strongly that he needed the strength and the silence of Atlantis to keep him upright. The coolness of the door seeped through the clothing covering his back, giving him a measure of the relief he sought.

Opening his eyes, he glanced around the dimly lit room. How long had he been standing there, leaning against the door, going through the events of the day in his mind? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know or if he really cared.

Pushing himself away, he stumbled toward his bed, his legs feeling like they wouldn't hold him upright. Tumbling onto the soft surface, one arm pinned beneath his own weight, his legs hanging half off the edge, he groaned. Dragging his left arm up toward his face, he squinted at his watch-face.

Twenty hundred hours, give or take a few minutes.

That meant he had been standing there, leaning against the wall for… He tried to do the math, but his brain wasn't having it and settled for an approximation—far too long.

Shifting his weight he yanked his arm from beneath his body before all the feeling absconded from it and crawled up toward his pillow. He could see his laptop sitting on his desk, its siren song calling his name. He'd given Carson a promise and even though there was no real way for the doctor to enforce it, he felt like he owed him that much just because of their working relationship and their friendship.

He scoffed at the last thought, his breath leaving in a disgusted huff. Who was he kidding? It was plainly obvious who his friends were now, wasn't it?

Teyla had at least visited him once, so he needed to give her points for trying, at least a little, even though she'd probably lost some kind of bet or something. Why else had she not come back when she'd promised?

Lorne was forced to spend time with him. Hard to call someone a friend who was ordered to keep you company.

He really hadn't expected to see Sheppard or Radek, although it would have been nice for them to drop in and say hello. Sheppard used to do that when he was in the lab working late, but now everything was different. Radek had probably been up to his eyeballs with work. Rodney knew he hadn't been keeping up with things the way he normally did once that whole Arcturus project had caught his attention. But, knowing how Radek worked, everything would probably be in order when he walked in.

He let his thoughts wander, drifting through the upper reaches of his mind, settling on everything and nothing all at once. People and places all blended together—familiar faces in unfamiliar settings. It sometimes felt like he was running simulation after simulation, the situation resetting with different people and variables. Sometimes it looked like he was back on Duranda. Other times he was on the mainland or a planet that was vaguely mainland-like. Once he swore he was on the planet where the Guardian of Forever sat for all time, waiting for that single question. The Guardian would certainly be helpful in his case, giving him the ability to go back in time and change things, make things right, make him stop before he blew up an entire solar system. He could almost hear himself pleading with the Guardian, begging to be allowed to step through, to set things right, to make sure Collins didn't die.

In the early morning hours, he swore he could hear him, see him, pleading with Rodney to give his death meaning and purpose. His blackened hands would reach out to him, clasping the front of his shirt in a grip that Rodney couldn't shake, forcing him to look into his eyes, to see the pain and the anguish he'd experienced even in that short time.

And once he grabbed on, it always seemed like he would never let go, as if by that very touch he could drag Rodney right over the edge, never waking in this world again.

With his breath catching in his throat, Rodney jerked awake, his hands waving desperately to rid himself of the visitor his mind had created. With his eyes wide open, his panting gasps were loud in the silence of the room.

As he eased himself back down into his bed, he tried to calm himself, gradually slowing down his breathing and his heart rate, convincing his over-active mind that it was just another nightmare.

Once he settled down, he lifted his wrist, squinting through the darkness to try and make out the small number on the dial. When it was obvious that they wouldn't magically appear, he grumbled reaching to press the button that would illuminate it for a few seconds. The light, while low, still managed to blind him, forcing him to glare at the watch in order to read the time.

0430

Damn. His hands dropped to lie on the bed beside him. Why did he have to be awake and alert this early? Knowing that getting any sleep at this point was severely doubtful, Rodney groaned and rolled to a sitting position, his bare feet hitting the cold floor with a thud. Scratching his stomach, he pushed himself upright, stumbling to the bathroom.

He might as well get moving. There was probably plenty of work to be done anyway.

Dragging his unwilling body through the motions, he was ready to go in less than half an hour, but standing in the middle of his room, the lights on barely enough to illuminate the furniture and his overly organized belongings, he realized he didn't want to go to the lab right now. There were probably scientists already working, some of them still there from the night before.

Glancing down, he realized he'd dressed in the charcoal grey uniform he normally wore on missions. Habit, he guessed. But even with the uniform in place, he still wasn't ready to pull on all of his responsibilities just yet.

Taking a deep breath, he quickly made up his mind. Grabbing a PowerBar and shoving it into the pocket of his jacket, he unlocked the door to his quarters, disengaging the security program he'd placed on it the night before.

Peering into the hall, only silence greeted him. Lorne was nowhere to be seen. Neither were any of his guards.

He was free.

Turning toward the transporter at the end of the hall, he stepped inside, stabbing his finger at one of the locations as far outside the main areas of the city as he could get without ending up in the water—not that the system would allow him to beam himself into the ocean. He'd tried. Not for himself, but for another loud-mouthed scientist. For some reason that was one of the safety measures the city wouldn't allow him to override.

Elizabeth had been quietly amused, but had been officially disapproving of his side project. But that had been months ago when they'd been friends as well as colleagues.

Shrugging off the thought, he plodded on, not paying much attention to where he was going as long as he was walking.

A few minutes later he found himself on the East side of the city, on the East Pier, the night quickly giving way to the sunrise. Without conscious thought he walked, enjoying the feel of wind against his face, the freedom to go and do what he wanted.

He soon found himself outside and he pulled his jacket around him tighter, zipping it up to his neck and burying his hands in his armpits. The wind was chilly, colder than he expected, but he didn't care. His feet continued to move him forward, until he was standing at the edge of the pier. His eyes quickly scanned the area, finding a small alcove he could settle into that blocked most of the wind, but gave him a great view of the horizon.

Sitting, he curled himself into as small a ball as he could manage, trying to keep the heat from his body close to him. Hugging his knees against his chest, his arms locked around his bent legs, he kept his eyes fixed on the sea and the glow beginning far in the distance.

He let his mind drift, enjoying not having to think about anything. He knew the science behind the colors of the sunrise, but he didn't dwell on it, instead choosing to simply watch and wait for the show to conclude.

It didn't take long.

With the sky mostly clear except for a few high clouds, the rays of the sun shone out brilliantly, spreading across the dark sky like a firestorm. The day was born anew in a hue of reds and oranges and golds, the dark midnight blue quickly relenting under the onslaught of color.

Sometimes he wished he didn't know so much, wished he could simply enjoy the things others took at face value.

"Pretty, isn’t it?"

The words, although spoken softly, were unexpected. As was the sweaty, dreadlocked figure towering over him.

"What?" he said, his body twitching as he tried to recover.

"The sunrise," Ronon said, his chin gesturing toward the brightening horizon, perspiration glistening on his face, a bead of it running down his jaw to drop on his shirt.

"Oh, yeah," McKay nodded, turning his eyes back, trying not to be disappointed at the company. But it was as if Ronon's words had interrupted a great symphony and now, there was no going back. The mood was past. "What are you doing out here anyway?" he asked, turning back toward the Satedan.

"Running. I try to time my run so I can see the sunrise. I saw you come out here before."

"Oh."

"You okay?"

"Fine, fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Ronon shrugged, using his should to wipe some of the sweat from the side of his face. "Didn't take you for a sunrise watcher."

"Just because I know the scientific principles behind a sunrise doesn't mean I can't enjoy it for beauty's sake alone."

Ronon raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I guess."

A few moments passed when neither man said anything, their eyes drifting back to the dying remains of the sunrise.

"I should keep moving," Ronon said finally, his gaze meeting Rodney's.

"Yes, yes. Don't want to get cold, tighten up all those muscles of yours."

Ronon nodded, his eyes drifting back to the water and the sun's rays as they danced on its surface. "See you around, McKay," he said finally, loping off along the outer edge of the pier, obviously circling back to the main section of Atlantis.

"Yeah," he replied, nodding absently as he watched the warrior's figure quickly fade away.

Taking a few more deep breaths, Rodney climbed to his feet, his limbs stiff from the cold and the awkward position he'd been sitting in, and slowly made his way back to the warmer hallways of Atlantis. Pulling out a PowerBar, he gnawed on it during his walk back, enjoying the solitude of the city, letting it embrace him slowly, corridor by corridor. As he reached the more populated sections, more and more people were also walking the hallways. They didn't say a word, but he could feel their stares, see their startled glances.

It was as if they didn't think he had the right to walk the same corridors they used, as if he should be relegated to using the catwalks, hiding in the shadows, never seen or heard, just appearing when there was a crisis or something needed to be fixed. He was the smartest man in two galaxies, but the very people he worked with and protected on a regular basis wanted nothing to do with him.

Putting his head down, he started walking faster, his feet taking him to the mess for coffee and then to the labs where he'd get to work. Knowing Zelenka, he'd be there already and Rodney was sure there was a lot to do.

***

A scrape of metal against concrete pulled Rodney McKay's attention from the pseudo eggs and toast on his plate as Major Lorne, clad in his usual grey and black BDUs, slid into the chair across from him at the mess hall table.

He scowled at the man as he shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth. Waving the utensil in the air, he mumbled around his breakfast, "Make yourself at home, why don't you."

"Why thank you, McKay," Lorne said with a tight smile, deftly pulling the military-issue silverware apart and digging into his own plate-full of food. "So, how are things?"

Rodney paused, glancing up from his coffee mug, his eyebrows scrunching together as he tried to process the words that had come out of the other man's mouth. "You know," he began, "that you don't have to follow me around anymore or pretend to enjoy my company."

Lorne glanced around the room quickly, his eyes theatrically wide. "Who said I was doing that?"

"No one," he replied, rolling his eyes and giving his head an absent shake. "Well, actually, I just did."

"And?"

"And, I thought it best to bring that to your attention. You can go and make merry with the rest of the marine core. There's no need for you to take up space at my table." He waved his hands, hoping the "shoo fly" gesture would make the other man move.

It didn't.

Sighing, Rodney turned back to this breakfast, discovering that he wasn't hungry anymore. Just his luck. The one time he was actually in the mess when they had reconstituted eggs, he lost his appetite.

"Look," he said after several minutes of silence apart from the clicking of Lorne's silverware against his plate. Shoving his tray forward a few inches away from the edge, he planted his elbows on the table. "Did you lose a bet? Or…maybe Carson put you up to this. He's been badgering me for days now, wanting to know how I'm doing. That man has a hard time understanding that I'm fine and have no desire—or need—to talk about my feelings."

Lorne shook his head, lifting his coffee mug to his lips and taking a sip. "No, none of that. I just figured you could use some company."

Rodney leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest. "Company."

"Yes, company." Lorne raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth threatening to rise. "You do know what the term means."

"Of course I do."

"Oh, yes. I forgot. You're the genius of Atlantis."

Rodney scowled, his eyes narrowing. "Go ahead. Mock the genius."

Lorne set his mug down carefully, his fingers drifting over the rim. "Look. I’m not here to cause you any trouble or to bother you. I just wanted to see how you were doing. You've been back on the job for a few days and the word on the street is that you've been working pretty hard. And from what I'm seeing," he said, his hand gesturing across the table, "it seems to the true."

"So, what, you're my mother now?"

"McKay…" he growled, letting the last syllable drag. "You could drive a man to drink some days, you know that?"

The scientist glanced at the digital readout on his watch. "Well, it's not even 0800. Think it's too early to begin?"

"I generally like to wait until noon, myself."

"It is noon somewhere in the Pegasus galaxy, I'm sure."

A smile grew on Lorne's lips as he raised his coffee mug to the physicist. "See, that's why I like you, McKay. You're smart."

The corner of Rodney's lips twitched, threatening a matching grin. He shook his head. "It always worries me when the military personnel start thinking for themselves." Pushing back from the table, he rose, picking up his unfinished breakfast try. "No rest for the wicked."

He paused before stepping away from the table. "And…thanks."

Lorne looked up, a smile firmly ensconced on his face. "You're welcome, McKay. Same time tomorrow?"

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I'd like that."

***

Rodney McKay looked tired. Glancing up from his computer as the door to the main lab whooshed open, Radek watched as the other scientist wandered in, bee-lining for his computer terminal, barely aware of anything except the coffee mug in his hand and the computer screen before him as it booted up for the day.

It had been the same exact routine the last few days. Rodney would stumble in and work diligently for several hours before acknowledging anyone else worked in the lab with him—and then the yelling ensued.

Some days the ranting actually made sense, other times Radek was convinced Rodney was doing it just for show. Although, only one member of the science staff had been reduced to tears this week—but there were still three more days to go. Plenty of time for Rodney to catch up for lost week.

Eventually, he'd turn back to his computer, muttering under his breath and punching savagely at the keys before announcing that he was going to check on some projects and find lunch. And Radek knew exactly where Rodney had been by the emails he left in his wake. Some of the scientists were getting more…creative than usual, others a tad more violent, but nothing Radek feared they'd have to worry about.

As much as McKay pushed the science department, demanding perfection, Radek knew he required it from himself as well. He'd seen Rodney's calculations from the Arcturus project, watching as he reviewed his notes, observing from afar as he ran simulation after simulation, delving deep into the Ancient database looking for something to help him explain what happened. The failure stuck with him, haunting him. Radek could see it in the lines of his pale and drawn face, in his shadowed eyes.

By the time afternoon rolled around, Rodney could most likely be found in a small lab one level up, a place he'd made his own, somewhere he knew he could work undisturbed. The shelves were lined with Ancient devices—small and large, most still a mystery to everyone—but Rodney continued to work with them, tweaking, touching, and examining every surface, every twist and turn, every nook and cranny. Sometimes Radek would stand near the open door, watching silently as Rodney worked, his concentration complete, his genius barely able to stay within his body, his limbs in constant motion as he absorbed everything before him.

It was in those moments that Radek felt the barest stirrings of jealously.

On other days, Rodney would be as still as an airless summer day, his fingers barely moving over the keys of his computer, completely engrossed in the data scrolling across the screen.

On both occasions, Radek would simply slip away, refusing to disturb the physicist, respecting the boundaries Rodney had set so long ago. In the main lab, Rodney was accessible, willing to interact with the other scientists, but in this little lab…this was his personal space, his retreat. Radek did not want to take that away from him as well.

He hated watching, observing, and reporting. Rodney was a pain in the ass, but a friend in an odd way. And even after everything, Radek still trusted him. The man might be an egotistical maniac, but he was right more often than he was wrong, and a genius to boot.

Shaking his head, Radek turned back to his own terminal and his projects, making a mental note to speak to Rodney before he began ranting today. There were several projects they needed to discuss before one of them blew up in their faces—again.

***

Rodney absently reached for his coffee mug, his fingers sliding against the ceramic surface a few times before he inched his arm further forward, enabling him to grasp it firmly. With his eyes still fixed on his computer screen, he lifted the mug to his lips, encountering the very cold coffee a few seconds later. Making a face into the liquid, he gulped one mouthful—nearly finishing the beverage—before putting it down abruptly.

In his opinion there was only one thing worse than cold coffee: no coffee.

Glancing around the lab, he spotted several people hunched over their workstations and he could hear the muttered Czech coming from somewhere behind him indicating Zelenka was hard at work—or fighting with Minesweeper again. They desperately needed more scientists—good scientists—not the lazy, troublemakers they kept sending him on the Daedalus. Apparently Atlantis wasn't exactly the easiest place to recruit for. The neighbors seem to put people off.

Shaking his head, his eyes drifted back down to his terminal. He'd managed to plow through most of the reports he'd missed last week, making notes and yelling at a few of the deserving idiots on staff. But there was still so much work to be done. They had so many improvements to make on Atlantis itself, to help save power, to make things better for everyone, but there was always something else to worry about, some other crisis.

The Wraith were the biggest threat hanging over their heads. Although, thanks to the whole 'let's pretend to blow up Atlantis' idea they'd had a few months ago, the Wraith had been quiet as of late, which left time to worry about the more mundane things: like feeding their growing population and maintaining shields and energy without overloading or wasting the finite amount of power they had on hand. It wasn't like the Pegasus Galaxy was giving away free ZedPMs with the purchase of a sack of grain. And from what they'd been hearing, the SGC was having issues all of its own and they didn't have an unlimited supply of naquadah reactors at their disposal.

Then there was always the Ancient database of which they'd only begun to scratch the surface. The interface program was helpful, but translating Ancient into English slowed down the terminals accessing the database. But with only a handful of people fluent in Ancient, it didn't leave them a whole lot of options. And that usually left him mining the data for anything that would help them to streamline their power flow. At least when Radek asked him about his time in the Ancient mainframe, he could say that he was looking for improvements to some of the environmental systems. It wouldn’t be a lie…entirely. He was looking. His search was just a tad bit broader.

He knew there would be something in here to help them, help him win back their trust, their respect. He just had to find it.

He didn't understand why the Ancients didn't tag their entries in a more user-friendly way. It would be helpful to have an index entry for "Wraith-killing devices". It would make his job a whole lot easier.

Instead, he found himself plowing through entry after entry, cross-referencing anything that even looked remotely like it was portable and deadly.

There wasn't a whole lot to go on so far, but he did have several possibilities. But, of course, none of them were on Atlantis, and that required him to convince several teams to go on egg hunts for him. It certainly made life interesting.

"Rodney?"

Turning abruptly, Rodney found himself face-to-face with Radek, the other man blinking serenely through the glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose. "What?"

"You have been staring at the screen for five minutes without moving or blinking," the scientist replied, pushing the glasses back into place with his index finger. "You normally would have begun yelling at the staff by now, so something must be wrong."

"I didn't think I had a timetable."

"Not one that we can set watch to, but it is there nonetheless."

"Did you have a point to interrupting?"

"Doctor Weir has scheduled us for a meeting this afternoon and we have not yet begun to discuss—"

"Yes, yes," Rodney replied, turning away as he waved his hand. "I know all about the meeting. I've been having this meeting once a week, every week since we got here. Nothing new."

"Then, you have suggestions for upcoming off-world missions?"

"Of course. I keep a running log of planets I run across in the database and depending on what we need this week, I offer the ones I think are most appropriate." Rodney grabbed his coffee mug again, scowling into its depths when he remembered the temperature of the liquid.

"You have a list?"

Rodney glanced up, meeting Radek's gaze. "How else do you think I come up with new places to visit every week?"

"I provided Doctor Weir with a list last week, and had to work from scratch."

"Oh," Rodney replied, his eyes widening a little at the other man's tone. "There were several coordinates in my file you could have used."

"Yes. This I have discovered now, but could have used before."

"You didn't ask."

"Would you have informed me of your file if I had?"

The corner of Rodney's mouth twitched. "Maybe. Depends on what you were offering."

Radek turned away, muttering under his breath. He swung back around a few seconds later, a hand raised, his pointer finger shoved in Rodney's direction. "You are an ungrateful bastard."

Rodney shrugged. "What did you expect? I have a reputation to maintain." Sliding off his chair and leaving Radek behind, he meandered to the coffee pot in the corner of the lab, pouring another hot cup, dumping in several heaps of sugar and topping it off with non-dairy creamer. He missed real milk and half-and-half.

Turning around he aimed an eyebrow at Zelenka, taking a sip of his coffee. "So," he said after several moments passed, "what did you want to discuss?"

The Czech's mouth dropped open, his eyes widening. Clad in the white coat Zelenka liked to sport when he was in the lab covering his tan science uniform, and with his hair standing on end in spots, it made him look like a mad scientist. And in this instance, it might actually be the truth. He was…mad, but not in the crazy, insane way that phrase was more commonly known for.

Throwing his hands up in the air, Zelenka shook his head, his hair obeying its own command. "Why do I even try?"

"You feel the desperate need to challenge yourself nearly every moment of the day?" Rodney padded back to his workstation, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest and he sipped from his mug. "I could suggest other, more productive ways to spend your time—like, oh I don't know. How about trying to figure out a way to conserve power in the less-used sections of Atlantis? Hmm?"

"If you paid attention to what we were doing before you drank six cups of coffee, you would have noticed that I sent you several suggestions earlier this morning."

Rodney poked at the keys of his computer, calling up his email client. Skimming the window as it popped up, he noted several unread emails. "I'm not a morning person, Radek. You of all people should know that."

"You are not much of a person, but we have become accustomed to you. Do you wish to get lunch and go over the report we are to give Doctor Weir in an hour?"

"Sure, sure," Rodney said, waving absently with his left hand as he carefully placed his mug on the counter with his right, already forming answers to most of the emails he saw in his inbox. Radek huffed and Rodney heard him shuffle away.

"Five minutes."

"Of course, Rodney."

Immersed in his replies, his mind quickly pushed his upcoming meeting to the background. Lunch could wait a few minutes.

***

Elizabeth Weir glanced at the two scientists—one clad in charcoal, the other in sand—sitting across from her in the conference room. It was the first time since Rodney McKay had returned to work that they'd had any real contact. Passing in the mess hall or in the corridors didn't count for much when it came to interaction.

And, from at least the way this meeting was concluding, the restrictions they'd placed on him last week must have had some kind of effect. While he was still argumentative and held strong opinions about the information he presented, his tone was less biting and he was more open to discussion than he was a few weeks ago.

Something had sunk into his thick skull—unless he was simply on his best behavior, but that wasn't Rodney. Like it or not, the man certainly took the phrase 'what you see is what you get' to all new levels. For all intents and purposes, McKay was an open book—at least to those who worked with him in any capacity and for longer than a few hours.

John Sheppard shifted in the seat next to hers and she glanced in his direction, noting the tension in his frame which had yet to fade from his body. "You have something to add, John?"

He shook his head, his fingers tapping against the tablet PC on the table in front of him. "No, these all look like good possibilities." He looked up, offering McKay and Zelenka a quick nod of his head. "And the suggestions for team assignments are solid. I'll start setting up these missions for the upcoming week."

"Is there anything else to go over?" Weir asked when silence fell upon the group. She caught John's eye and he shook his head. Turning to the scientists, she was about to dismiss them when Rodney leaned forward, elbows on the table.

"Actually," he began, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists, the fingers in constant motion. "We should discuss who will be replacing me on Colonel Sheppard's team."

Weir raised an eyebrow, tilting her head a little to the side. "I had left that decision up to the Colonel."

"I know you did, but there is an important reason to having a member of the science department on every team and I don't think that Colonel's Sheppard's team should be the exception to the rule while I’m grounded."

"It's only for a few weeks, McKay," John said, leaning forward himself, his shoulders stiffening further. "It'll take that long to break in a new scientist."

"So? It'll be good practice. And the stuff you're searching for won't exactly be out in the open. You're going to need someone with more than a 'shoot first, ask questions later' mentality so you don't end up blowing yourself up."

John moved again, his face darkening. "Funny you should mention that, McKay…" He drew out the last syllable, before his expression hardened further. "How sure are you that it won't be the scientists doing the blowing up?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to respond, but Radek spoke up, his voice cutting through the room, instantly diffusing the tension.

"I, for one, have no intention on blowing up anything, Colonel Sheppard. I can perhaps find another scientist who would be more to your liking? Kavanaugh perhaps?"

"You're going to join my team?"

Weir swore that John was holding back a laugh, but when she looked at him his expression was dark and serious.

"Yes. Rodney and I spoke at lunch and decided it would be best if I have more field experience. I have no intention to going with any other team."

"And you were going to bring this up—"

"Right now, actually," Rodney said, his jaw set, his face closed. "It's not like there were opportunities before and all the pertinent people are here." He waved his hand, the gesture encompassing everyone in the room. His voice when he continued was hard. "Do you have a problem with having a scientist on your team?"

"No," John said, the word harsh. He was about to continue when Weir spoke up, cutting off any other comments he might have. The tension and anger in the room was thick enough as is.

"I think this is a good idea. Doctor Zelenka needs additional time in the field and you've worked with him before." Weir raised her hand, forestalling the argument forming on John's lips. "When we arrived on Atlantis we decided that all teams should have at least one member of the science staff if at all possible. You've already had one mission without a fourth member and we need your team to lead by example."

She paused, her eyes tracking between all the people in the room, watching for their reaction. When the room didn't erupt in complaints, she continued. "I believe that will be all gentlemen."

Chairs scraping against the floor echoed throughout and hurried footsteps followed. "Colonel, if you have a minute," she said, making the man pause just inside the conference room doors, inches away from freedom. The scientists were already in the control room and heading down the stairs. They certainly could move fast when motivated.

She waited for him to drift back toward her, settling down on top of the table, one foot planted on the floor, the other dangling at an angle because of how he was seated. He speared her with a hard look before speaking. "You had a question?"

"I thought you weren't going to have any issues working with Doctor McKay."

"I don't have any issues," he replied, crossing his hands over his chest. "I think the information he presented was good. I said as much."

"Oh?" She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Then what was the whole 'I’m not going to have a scientist on my team' thing?"

"His suggestion took me by surprise, that's all."

"He was right to suggest it. As the head of the science department and part of the senior staff, it's part of his job to make sure the teams are properly outfitted with everything they need—from equipment to people."

Sheppard shrugged, letting out a long breath as he turned to study the wall. "Why can't we have three people on a team?"

"Because," she replied rising to her feet, "we decided teams would have four members to balance things out. You argued for it pretty strongly if I remember correctly." She moved past him, pausing before she reached the door. "And next time Doctor McKay suggests something, even if it is…surprising, I expect a much more professional reaction from you. Understood?"

He nodded once, looking toward her with a slight smile. "Fine. I can do professional."

"I certainly hope so," she said, turning back to the control room, her steps taking her out of the door. She threw the last words over her shoulder, her tone light. "I have no intention on trying to teach anything to an old dog."

"Hey," he exclaimed and she chuckled, letting it buoy her as she moved on to the reports she still had to read before the end of the day.

***

Knocking lightly on the door-jam of Carson Beckett's office, Major Lorne poked his head in. The doctor raised his left hand, gesturing for him to wait a moment as he continued to jot notes down in the chart on his desk. After a flourish of his pen, Carson looked up, flashing him a smile.

"It doesn't look like you are in desperate need of a doctor, so what can I do for you, Major?"

Lorne moved into the room, dropping down into the guest chair. "Just wanted to know if you'd seen McKay yet today."

"No, I've been busy sortin' through test results and getting things ready for tomorrow." He paused, tilting his head a little as he met Lorne's gaze. "I stopped by last night and ended up dragging him from the lab—which is getting to be a common occurrence it seems. Why?"

The major shrugged, glancing around the small office. "Did he seem…different to you?"

"Different? How?"

"I'm not sure. I can't put my finger on it," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "I sat with him at breakfast this morning. It was the first time I'd gotten the chance to talk to him since he's been back at work." Lorne paused again. "I guess he seems to be more or less his normal, acidic self."

"And you were expecting something different?"

"He agreed to have breakfast with me tomorrow."

"You know, Major, for as…awkward as Rodney can be in social situations and as much as he complains—quite loudly and about nearly everything—he does need to talk and relate to others. If you ask him, he'd deny it. More often than not, he won't turn you down—unless, of course, he hates you and that he usually saves for some of the more deserving members the expedition."

"Like Kavanaugh."

"Aye, like him." Carson narrowed his eyes, giving Lorne the once over. "There was something else, wasn't there?"

Shifting in his seat, Lorne nodded slowly. "Remember the look he had last week when we got back from the Mazurkian homeworld?"

Beckett nodded, worry sliding onto his face.

"He has it again. Not quite as bad, but it's only a matter of time."

"Aye," Carson said, nodded emphatically. "That dimwitted man can make the world turn on his command, but he canna take care of himself. I'll see to it."

Lorne rose. "Thanks, Doc. That's all I wanted. You set for tomorrow?"

"More or less. Anne's getting everything ready this afternoon. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours on the mainland as long as there are no complications, which I'm not expecting."

The major's eyebrow rose. "Did you just jinx us?"

"What?"

"About the complications. Kind of like at home when you're driving on the highway and there's no traffic. You have the urge to say you're making good time and then, bam! You hit wall-to-wall congestion. I think you just jinxed us so you better be ready for an overnighter, just in case."

"I did nae such thing."

"Humor me, Doc, and bring a change of clothes. You'll thank me, and we'll enjoy your company a whole lot more." Lorne moved toward the door.

"Fine, fine. I'll tell Anne to get a bag together for herself, too," he replied as Lorne stepped into the main infirmary.

"Remember, it's 0900 in the jumper bay. Don't be late."

"I'll be on time, Major," Carson answered. "It's not like you can leave without me."

"Oh, I can leave, but that means you'd have to fly yourself over. I think it might be safer for everyone involved if that didn't happen."

Beckett grimaced. "Vera funny. See you in the morning."

Lorne waved absently as he turned and headed back into the hallways, aiming for the gym. Time to beat the new recruits into the ground. Some days, he loved his job.

***

Leaning down to squint at some of the smaller numbers, Rodney hummed to himself, impressed by some of the creativity he saw in Doctor Jay Liebermann's latest progress report—but it was a little too cautious to be of much good to anyone. His fingers began typing furiously, his inserted notes making up a colorful addition to the document.

_Check the equations on page two. If you increase the variables by a fraction of a percent you should be able to get far more usable and sustainable energy output. Any more than that and you could end up burning out the system instead. Caution is good, but too much and you just end up wasting time on negligible returns._

Moving down the list, he green-lit Doctor Steven Swartson's project, but added a brief warning to the end. His progress report next week would give the science staff the information they needed to see if this could be incorporated into another ongoing experiment.

_You need to carefully watch the consumption of some of the more unstable elements. While they inherently bring tangible benefits for the short term, long-term use may be unsustainable. Make sure your simulations incorporate a longer time variable than the one you are currently using. Atlantis needs long-term solutions, not short-term patchwork._

Attaching the amended document to an email, he typed a brief message and then clicked send. Straightening up in his chair, his back cracking a little from the movement, Rodney grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out some of the knots as he waited for the message to upload to the Atlantis internal email server.

Once the program confirmed the message had been sent, Rodney leaned in, repeating the process with the second report. As the progress bar slowly moved, he rose to his feet, hissing as his aching muscles protested. He still had several more reports to read and comment on before he could move to his own projects.

Picking up his empty mug, he scowled into the bottom of it, glancing back and forth between the coffee maker and his workstation. He could make another pot and continue working, or he could run down to the mess and grab some food before he got back to the emails and reports sitting in his inbox.

A quick glance at his watch made up his mind. If he didn't go now, dinner would be a long-forgotten memory—at least for tonight. And as much as he claimed that he could live on MREs and PowerBars, he wasn't in the mood for either tonight.

Moving quickly, he readied the coffee pot, adding water and grounds and setting the timer. It shouldn't take him more than thirty minutes to eat and then he'd be back and a freshly brewed pot would be waiting. _That_ sounded heavenly.

Locking down his desktop, he strode out into the hallway, heading for the transporter. The halls in this section were mostly quiet, unless of course he was yelling at someone, but then, it was generally well deserved. There were only a handful of people in the corridors and they didn't say anything as he passed by. Instead they watched him, but turned their eyes away when he noticed their gaze.

He was used to the silence, but the shifting eyes were new. By the time he reached the end of the hallway it was far easier to keep his head down. At least then he didn't see them look away, didn't see their pity, their accusations.

"Doctor McKay."

He picked up his head, turning to look at who was calling his name. The Athosian smiled at him as she approached.

"Teyla," he said surprised. "You wanted something?"

"I am grateful to have caught you."

"I didn't miss our practice time, did I? I thought that was scheduled for tomorrow. I can't do two days in a row of you wiping the floor with my ass. It's bad for my ego and my back doesn't appreciate it." He straightened, pressing his hand to the small of his back, illustrating his words with a grimace and a hiss.

"No," she replied, the smile reaching her eyes. "However, I did observe that you were not present in the mess at your usual time. I did not wish for you to miss dinner."

"Why?" he asked, stepping into the transporter, Teyla moving with him. With his finger, he pressed a spot for the transporter location nearest the mess hall and a few moments later they emerged, walking slowly toward their destination.

"I believe…meatloaf is one of your more desirous meals and I did not wish for you to miss it."

He stopped, raising an eyebrow at the Athosian as she moved a few more steps before turning around to face him. "You didn't want me to miss dinner? I find that hard to believe."

"Why? You are a member of my team and someone I consider a friend." She moved closer, her hand reaching out, gently resting on his shoulder. He tried not to tense the muscles under her palm, but it was difficult. Old habits and all.

Tilting her head, she looked at him more carefully, her gaze penetrating. "Should I not be concerned about your wellbeing? I am also very well aware of your tendency to skip meals, much to the detriment of your own health."

Rodney glanced away, his left arm creeping around to its usual position, his left hand held near the small of his back while he held his right hand in front of his body, his fingers constantly in motion.

Teyla's hand tightened briefly before she pulled it away. "Doctor McKay?"

He turned back, offering a small smile. "You said meatloaf?"

She nodded, her expression uncertain.

"What are we waiting for? If I don't get in there soon I'm sure there will be nothing left and I have no intention of eating a PowerBar for dinner when there's perfectly good meatloaf waiting in the mess hall." He moved off, pausing only long enough to look over his shoulder. "Are you coming?"

She gave him in a single nod in reply, a broad smile on her face as she stepped up beside him.

"Now, I have to tell you that this meatloaf is nothing compared to what I used to cook up when I was working in Russia," he said, grabbing a nearby tray.

"Russia?"

He flashed her a surprised look as the airman on KP duty dropped a large piece of meatloaf on his plate, the gravy splattering onto the tray. "I haven't told you about my experiences in Russia?"

"I do not believe you have," she replied, retrieving her own plate of food before they moved down the line to the coffee pots. Quickly grabbing a mug along with some cream and sugar, he grabbed a table, settling down quickly, his fork already digging into his dinner before Teyla had found her own seat across from him.

"I wasn't in Russia long, but it was one place I'm not likely to forget," he began, talking around the food in his mouth. "You wouldn't believe what I had to put up with when I was there."

Teyla tilted her head, her face open and interested. He smiled once, briefly, his lips twisting into the unfamiliar expression before launching into his explanation, his fork gesturing in the air in-between bites of his dinner. And through it all, Teyla listened, asking questions, and laughing with him—once he explained the appropriate cultural references, of course.

It was nice to have such an attentive audience. And even as he talked, in the back of his mind he tried to remind himself to enjoy it because, knowing his luck, it was something that wouldn't last.

***

Muttering under his breath, Radek Zelenka shook his head as he read through the slew of emails that had appeared in his email box this afternoon after Rodney had made his rounds of the smaller science labs. Some things never change, he thought, rolling his eyes at one of the more…creative uses of Ancient technology.

Deleting the majority of the messages and flagging two to speak to Rodney about tomorrow, he pulled up the status screen for his current project, checking the readings and comparing them against his earlier estimations. The sound of shuffling feet, however, pulled his attention to the open door and away from the data at his fingertips. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Colonel Sheppard hovering near the entrance of the main science lab as if he were unsure if he should come in or not.

"Colonel?" Radek said, pushing his glasses back in place. "I did not expect to see you so soon. Is there a problem?"

Sheppard took a few steps into the room before casually resting a hip against a nearby table, his arms crossed easily over his chest. "McKay's not around?"

Zelenka's eyebrow rose. "No. He's in his lab one level up, but I am certain you know Rodney's habits after all this time."

"Yeah…" he replied, letting the last syllable drag out a little.

"You are here to talk me out of off-world missions, no?"

Sheppard looked a little surprised at his question, but answered it a few beats later. "Actually, I wanted to make sure this was something you wanted and not something McKay was pushing you into doing. I don't want you to do it if you're not comfortable."

"If I believed that it was a bad decision, I would not have agreed with the suggestion. Most of the scientists require more time in the field."

"I know we have to get the scientists out of the labs more often, but that doesn't mean that you have to go into the field immediately. I'm sure you have other things to do, experiments—"

"Colonel," Radek said, cutting off the other man. "I know you are unhappy about McKay's performance on the Arcturus project, but it is unfair to apply it to the entire department. And, I believe it to be in the best interest of this department for more of the scientists to receive field training. I consider myself to be among that number."

Sheppard was shaking his head. "I don't have an issue with the science department, Doc."

"Then, we don't have a problem." Radek smiled humorlessly. "So, when do we have our mission briefing?"

Shifting on his feet, Sheppard moved, his hip no longer resting against the workbench. "Tomorrow morning. We tentatively have a mission scheduled for the day after tomorrow. A simple recon."

Zelenka nodded. "Good. If you will send me a meeting request I will add it to my calendar."

"Meeting request?"

"In email. Is that not how you schedule meetings?"

Sheppard shook his head. "I just tell my team the time and place and we all show up."

Radek's eyes widened. "I am surprised you are able to accomplish anything with such an informal system. And Rodney shows up to these…meetings on time?"

"More or less."

"Amazing. The man cannot remember where he leaves his pen, but meetings and obscure details he can recall."

"So, if I tell you to meet me at 0930 tomorrow morning in the main briefing room, do you think you can remember that?"

Radek turned to his computer, pulling up his calendar. Selecting a new appointment he entered in the pertinent information. "How long should it last?"

"The meeting?" Sheppard shrugged. "Thirty minutes, an hour. It takes however long it takes. Are you going to be this anal retentive the entire time we're on a mission?"

"Perhaps. I shall block off an hour to make sure I do not have a conflicting appointment."

"And make sure you block off all of Friday," Sheppard said, gesturing with his hand toward the computer. "It's not like we can stop a mission because you have a meeting back on Atlantis."

"I understand the time commitments of off-world missions, Colonel," Radek said, saving the mission briefing to his calendar. "I have often taken over Rodney's meetings when he is pulled away unexpectedly. Do I have to look over anything before the briefing tomorrow?"

"I'll forward the reports to you."

"Good. I look forward to working with you, Colonel. You have managed to keep Rodney alive for more than two years, although he does come back injured often enough for it to be worrisome."

"Yeah, well, he manages to get into most of those situations by himself. He doesn't need help from me."

"I shall keep that in mind." Radek paused, looking at Sheppard expectantly. "Was there something else?"

"No, I think that's it. I'll let Elizabeth know we talked."

"Certainly. Then, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish this experiment before I retire for the evening."

"Oh, of course," he replied, his feet already taking him to the door. "Have a good night and I'll see you in the morning. 0930 hours. Don't forget."

"How can I forget? I have my calendar set to remind me of the meeting several times in the next twelve hours. Good night, Colonel."

Radek shook his head as Sheppard finally moved off, his footfalls echoing down the hallway. At least he was going into this with his eyes wide open. If Rodney had thrown this on him unexpectedly, the physicist would have more to worry about than large objects logged in small places. Much more.

***

Carson Beckett hovered outside Rodney's small lab, watching through the open door as his friend typed rapidly on his keyboard, pausing to lift his hand, his forehead scrunching up as one of his fingers traced something on the screen, before resuming the frantic tapping. The remnants of some meal sat beside him, a sizable unidentifiable mass congealing in the middle of his plate, a half-eaten piece of pie within arm's reach.

Rolling his eyes heavenward, he took a few steps forward and stopped once again, just inside the door. Leaning a shoulder against the wall, he cleared his throat, hoping he wouldn't startle the obviously intensely working scientist.

Rodney glanced up quickly, his hands never hesitating in their movement, before his eyes returned to the screen, a scowl on his face. "You wanted something? I'm busy if you haven't noticed."

"I did."

The physicist looked up, exasperation residing on his face, his fingers finally stilling. "You did what? Want something or notice that I was busy? "

"I wanted tae see how you were doing, but it's obvious you've gone back to ye bad habits," Carson said, gesturing to his friend as he pushed off from the wall and moved toward the lab table, pulling up a nearby stool and settling down—much to Rodney's distain if his growing frown was any indication. "I thought you were gonna be taking it easy. You were a might bit run-down a few days ago and pushing yourself like this is nae gonna make it better."

Rodney narrowed his eyes, the frown taking up permanent residence as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, thank you, Carson, for your diagnosis. Did you have to search deep into the sheep's entrails to divine that or did you manage to come up with it all by yourself?" He turned to glance back at the computer screen for a moment, his eyes flickering across the data continuing to scroll past. "Look," he said, turning back to the doctor. "I appreciate your concern, but it's misplaced. I know how to take care of myself. I've been doing it for thirty-eight years now."

"Aye and have you taken a good look at yourself lately, man? I've been stopping here every night for the last three and you look worse each time." He waved his hand toward the tray. "You're not eating like you normally do. You're drinking far too much coffee than your borderline hypertensive condition recommends. Should I continue?"

Rodney huffed, refusing to meet Carson's eyes, his gaze strolling over the Scot's shoulder toward the door of the lab.

"I didn't think so."

"What do you want from me, Carson?" Rodney finally asked, exasperation in his voice. His hands gestured toward the workstation before him, his hands help palm up, the fingers extended. "I can't change who I am. This is what I do."

"I'm just sayin' that ye need to take it easy sometimes, that you don't need to work yourself to death."

"And when the Wraith come everyone will be asking me why I don't have the solution this time, why can't I save Atlantis. And what will I tell them? That my doctor told me I was working too hard. And, when the ZedPMs and the naquadah generators begin to fail and we're running out of power everyone will turn to me wanting to know what to do. What will I tell them? That my doctor thought my time was better spent if I was resting and sleeping. Do you see where I’m going with this?"

"Rodney…"

"It's really only a matter of when, Carson, not if. You know as well as I do that the Wraith are not going to stop coming. We might have bought ourselves time with this parlor trick of ours, but all it takes is one slip and the Wraith will know we survived. A quiet word mentioned in passing that gets spread from one person to the next. Soon enough, the right ears hear it and we have a dozen Wraith hive ships knocking on our front door." Rodney paused, tilting his head to the side, his eyes finally sliding down to meet Beckett's. "So, what would you choose? You're a doctor, sworn to protect lives, to save lives. What would you do in my place?"

Carson shook his head. "That's nae a fair question."

"But it's a valid one. We might not be in the middle of a crisis right now, but they are never far off."

Sighing, Beckett shrugged and rose to his feet. "It seems like I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this."

"Because I’m right."

Moving toward the door, Carson pursed his lips before turning back to Rodney. "If you're determined to continue working like this, I’m gonna have to say something to Elizabeth."

"Why?" Rodney asked, his voice rising in pitch as he clamored to his feet.

"For ignoring medical advice, first of all," Carson replied, ticking the points off on his hand.

"I ignore your medical advice all the time. That's nothing new," Rodney complained, but Carson continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"For pushing yourself to the point of physical and mental exhaustion when there's nae a pressin' need."

"There's always a need, Carson. Just because you refuse to see it doesn't mean it's not there."

He ticked off a third finger. "And I don't think this is what Elizabeth had in mind when she reinstated you as head of the science department."

Rodney scowled at him. "Are you done?"

"I can probably find other things if I think hard enough."

"Don't injure yourself, Carson," Rodney grumbled, turning back to his computer, his hands resting lightly on the keyboard. His voice when he spoke again was softer, hesitant. "If I stop for tonight, will you lay off?"

"Only if you agree to work normal hours for the next three weeks—unless, of course, some ugly crisis rears its head. Then all bets are off."

"Fine," Rodney said, his hands in motion once again, surely closing down programs and logging out of the mainframe database. In a few minutes he was shutting down his computer, closing the lid, and turning back to the Scot. "Are you happy?"

"Not entirely, but this is a start," Carson replied, his hands on his hips, a half-smile on his face. "So, how about a late-night snack? I think I know where the cooks hid the chocolate chip cookies."

Instead of verbalizing his agreement, Rodney rose and headed into the corridor making Carson hustle to catch up with him. Walking side-by-side, they headed toward the nearest transporter.

"I guess convincing you that cookies go better with coffee is out of the question?"

"Don't push your luck, Rodney."

***

Ronon Dex watched from a darkened corner of the mess hall as the two doctors entered, chatting amicably about some topic, their voices not pitched loud enough to carry across the room. Moving to the kitchen doors, they ducked inside, their conversation never wavering.

It was good to see McKay interacting with people—if what he did was called interaction. Confrontation and bombardment was closer to the truth.

It didn't surprise him that Beckett was one of the first to approach the scientist, to try and draw him out. The medic had expressed some of his concerns to Teyla late one night before they left on the mission to the Mazurkian homeworld. Beckett didn't say he was worried—at least not in those plain terms—but between the lines Teyla could see his anxiety. She, in turn, acted on his unsaid words and discovered his concerns to be well-founded. Unfortunately, she had been unable to do more than spar with him one single night before they were headed on a mission. And since they'd been back, between routine training and other duties, he knew Teyla had not been able to spend much time with McKay.

For a man so loud, brash, and abrasive, it was strange to see McKay reduced, as it was, to a person reviled and hated—even after all that he had done for the city, risking his own life in the process. They seemed to forget the good, choosing to remember the bad instead.

And then there were the rumors. He hadn't thought much of them at first. It was just talk; it didn't make a difference in how people were treated, in how they performed their jobs. But when they'd returned to Atlantis, things had changed dramatically. There was a tension in the air that hadn't been there before. A certain…darkness, something much more predatory in nature. It was hard to explain. He didn't think they wanted McKay to fail, but the undertones he was sensing certainly were leading to that conclusion.

The Atlanteans were different than he expected.

Ever since they'd returned from the Mazurkian homeworld, Beckett had made it his point to check on McKay several times during the day—or as often as his schedule allowed. Tonight was not much different than the past three.

Beckett and McKay stepped back into the mess clutching a mug in one hand and napkin wrapped object in the other. Moving to a table near the door, they settled in, their conversation never pausing. He spied a small item in McKay's right hand as he waved it about, gesturing about something, and realized they'd located the cook's secret stash of cookies. If any more people knew about them, they certainly could not be considered a secret any longer—and there wouldn't be any left by morning.

He let the low rumble of their voices wash over him, allowing his mind to wander, his eyes drifting around the room to examine the intricate glass designs the Ancients favored. He was not particularly artistically inclined—any of those leanings tended to get pushed to the background when you were running for your life—but there was something soothing about the patterns that helped put his mind to ease before he retired for the night.

McKay's sharp, raised voice, however, nearly made him take to his feet, his hand immediately reaching for the weapon he always carried.

"What do you mean you're going back to the mainland?"

Seeing no immediate threat, he sat back down, choosing to listen instead of interrupt.

"…check-ups from last week."

"Last week? What were you doing last week? No one told me you were on the mainland."

"The quarterly check-ups. You know the routine."

"Yes, of course I know what they are," McKay protested, his cookie dropping forgotten to the table, landing beside the napkin where the other two were current residing. His face contorted as he wiggled his fingers in the air. The gesture, apparently, helped him think sometimes. Ronon saw it often enough. "That was last week? I could have sworn they were set up for this week. We'd made some adjustments in the mission schedules to make sure there was a pilot to take the medical staff over. You mean to tell me that we were off by a week?"

Beckett shrugged, but seated the way he was, Ronon didn't have a clear view off the doctor's face. "I'd forgotten myself, but I’m glad the Colonel and Elizabeth were keeping track. Halling was expecting us."

"Sheppard and Weir, eh? I should have known." McKay turned away from the other man, his breath expelling quickly from his mouth. He turned back a few moments later, his face carefully controlled, but Ronon could see the betrayal from across the room. "Let me guess, it just happened to be a coincidence that Sheppard's team had those treaty negotiations, too. Cause I don't remember that being on the mission list either."

"I don't know what you're getting at, Rodney," Beckett began, but broke off when McKay shook his head.

"No, no, of course you don't." He paused again, his gaze dropping to his forgotten late-night snack. "I seem to have lost my appetite. Enjoy your trip to the mainland." Shoving his chair back, he stood. "Give my regards to Lorne, will you? I’m sure he'll be piloting you tomorrow since his team's mission was moved to later in the week. Now I know why."

"Rodney—"

"I may be dense with some stuff, but I'm not a genius for nothing. Even I can see what's going on here. Good night, Carson," he said, his feet quickly taking him into the hallway beyond.

The doctor's head dropped, nearly hitting his cup as he let out a long sigh. Ronon chose that moment to rise, making his way to the solitary figure.

His movement must have reached the doctor's ears since he'd lifted his head even before Ronon reached the table, watching as he dropped into the chair McKay had just vacated.

"He's hurt and angry."

"You heard?"

Ronon nodded. "Hard not to. I was sitting on the other side of the room."

Beckett shifted in his chair, glancing back toward the darkened section of the mess. "I didn't notice—"

"You weren't looking."

Picking up McKay's discarded cookie, Ronon sniffed it appreciatively before taking a bite. Beckett watched him, his hands stiff gripping his half-full mug of tea.

"Is he right?"

Ronon shrugged. "Seems he might be."

"I just can't see Elizabeth or John purposely doing that to him, taking away anyone that might show him some compassion, sympathy, companionship. That's not like them at all."

"Sheppard was angry."

"Aye, he was, and so was Elizabeth, but that doesn't mean they'd be cruel."

"Anger does strange things to men."

"Are you saying they did that on purpose, that they arranged the missions just to make sure Rodney was alone so that there was nothing to distract him from…" Beckett shook his head, his eyes dropping to his mug as his voice petered out. "I canna believe that."

Ronon shrugged again, swiping the last of the cookies McKay left behind as he rose to his feet. "Believe what you wish. I've found that actions speak louder."

He walked into the hallway, leaving Beckett alone in the half-light of the mess hall, his thoughts and beliefs his only companions.

***

Lorne glanced around the mess hall trying to locate one wayward scientist. It was 0820 and there was still no sign of McKay. Chatting with one of the new recruits about an upcoming mission, he bided his time, waiting for him to show.

It wasn't like McKay to miss a meal—at least not when there wasn't a crisis, or he was in a particularly bad mood, or if he forgot because some fantastic scientific discovery took away all thoughts of the more mundane physical requirements of his body. Granted, sooner or later he'd be forced to eat, but then there was always a PowerBar within reach. What really bothered Lorne was that Rodney had seemed genuinely appreciative of the offer to meet for breakfast. He guessed he might have been wrong about the scientist's actual enthusiasm toward the event.

Grabbing a tray he loaded up on breakfast and his third cup of coffee for the morning, heading for a table off to the side but with a clear vantage point of the main door. Settling in, he dug into his food, his eyes continually drifting around the room.

"Sir?"

Glancing up, Lorne was surprised to see Second Lieutenant Holden Clark hovering, an apple in hand.

"Clark. Have a seat," he said, gesturing with his spoon toward the open chair, a soggy cornflake freeing itself from the utensil and landing on the edge of his tray.

"Thanks for the offer, but I have to get going. Were you waiting on Doctor McKay?"

"Actually I am," Lorne replied, his eyes glancing around the Lieutenant looking for the man in question.

"I don't think he's coming."

"Not coming?" Lorne's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? Where is he?"

Clark took a half-step back. "I don't know where he is now, but he was in and out of here earlier. Probably about fifteen minutes before you came in."

"No, that can't be right."

The other man shrugged. "It certainly looked like him. I figured I'd let you know so you didn't sit around waiting."

"Thanks," Lorne replied absently. "And anyway, how did you know I was having breakfast with him this morning?"

"Honestly, sir, Atlantis is a pretty small community. Word gets around."

"People are watching who I'm eating with?"

"Actually, it's the other way around," Clark admitted, his gaze shifting sideways.

"They're watching McKay? Why?"

He shrugged again. "No particular reason. You might want to keep that in mind though."

"And why might I want to do that?" Lorne dropped his spoon, letting it hit the tray with a metallic clank.

"Just that people notice certain things." Clark glanced at his watch. "Look, sir, I’m going to be late. Enjoy your breakfast."

"Thanks, Lieutenant," Lorne replied, letting the other man go, his eyes following him out the door. He had a bad feeling about this.

***

Carson Beckett walked into the main science lab, his eyes drifting over the figures scattered throughout the room, most of them hunched over their respective workstations and equipment. Catching sight of Radek near the back of the room, he maneuvered carefully through the worktables and machinery, offering smiles to those who glanced up as he moved past. With the large pack on his back, he felt it prudent to take a little extra time to make sure he didn't knock anything over.

The Czech glanced up as he approached offering a perplexed expression. "Should you not be in the jumper bay?" He turned back to his computer briefly, his fingers moving to call up the clock. "Yes, Lorne must be getting worried. Is there problem? I do not recall anyone here calling for medical assistance…"

"No, no," Carson said, waving him off. "Nothing's wrong. I was looking for Rodney."

"Oh," Radek replied, his face closing off slightly. "He has already retired to his lab upstairs. He complained that he could not work here this morning."

"When did he start this morning?"

Zelenka shrugged. "He was here when I arrived and refused to answer most questions I posed."

"And you were here, when?"

"I have been here since 0600. He left for his lab around 0715."

"Isn't that strange?"

"For Rodney, no. It has been happening less that he goes and hides in his lab, but it is not uncommon."

Carson shook his head. Raising his hand, he squinted at his watch-face, trying to decide if he had enough time to run upstairs and then to the bay. "Thanks, Radek," he said, already turning. "Be careful. I don't want to see you loitering in my infirmary when I get back."

"Nor do I have any desire to be there. Safe trip for you," Zelenka said, the data on his computer screen pulling him back in.

Beckett moved quickly, finding the nearest staircase to the next level. Turning on his radio, he signaled for the Major.

"Lorne here, Doc," came the quick reply, concern in his voice. "Something wrong? We're set to leave in ten."

"I have one stop to make before I head out. I might be a few minutes late."

"I'll let Flight know. If you're going to be more than fifteen, give me another call. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Nae. I just have to check on something. Shouldn't be more than a few minutes."

"Okay. Anne's already here and the gear has been stowed."

"Great. I'll be there shortly. Beckett out."

Reaching the top of the stairs, he turned the corner into the corridor, heading directly for the small lab he'd dragged Rodney out of last night. Sure enough, the physicist was there, his grey BDUs rumpled-looking, an empty coffee mug at his side, his fingers tapping rapidly against the top of the lab table, his eyes fixed firmly on this laptop screen.

"Rodney, you are certainly a hard man to find," Carson said, stopping on the other side of the table in front of the working scientist.

"I didn't realize people were looking for me," he replied before glancing up. "And shouldn’t you be on a mission or something?"

"Why does it seem like people know what I'm doing today?"

McKay shrugged. "I read the schedule and you're listed for an 0900 departure. No real secret about it. Looks like Lorne might be leaving without you if you don't hurry."

"I already talked to him," he replied instinctively. Taking a breath, he continued. "Look, schedules aside, I wanted to talk to you about last night."

"What's there to talk about?"

"You can't honestly believe that John and Elizabeth are purposely changing the mission lineups just to make your life miserable."

"So it's all one big coincidence then?" Rodney huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, raising his chin.

"Yes, exactly," Beckett said, snapping his fingers. "There's nae a need for you ta get all bent out of shape about a coincidence, is there?"

"Look," he began, his gaze level. "I'm not sure where this is coming from, or why you think something like that would bother me, but I really do have work to do, several mission briefings to attend, and you have a jumper to catch."

"Rodney—"

"Busy here," he snapped, his hands moving to rest palm-down on the table, one on either side of this computer. His expression softened for a brief moment as he glanced up again. "Be safe."

Carson nodded slowly, backing away, realizing that pushing to have any kind of discussion about this now would be pointless and just end up making matters worse. "Thanks. I'll see you tonight and we can talk. Okay?"

"Fine, fine," Rodney said abruptly, absently waving his hand, his attention already fixed on his screen.

Sighing, Beckett walked into the hall, his feet taking him to the nearest transporter while his mind continue to spin, his thoughts continuing to circle around one specific difficult to manage physicist.

***

As the sound of Beckett's footsteps disappeared down the corridor, Rodney allowed his body to collapse onto his stool, his muscles quivering with tension. He had the distinct impression that this would not be end of the discussion with the nosey, busybody doctor. Nothing was ever simple when it came to dealing with Carson.

He'd figured that people would leave him alone if he was in his lab, but apparently that didn't apply to Beckett. He was sure he had Zelenka to thank for the visitor.

Shaking his head and releasing the breath he was holding, he turned back to his open word processing document, his eyes skimming across the last few lines he'd written.

_Therefore, I believe some of Doctor Edwards' suppositions regarding Ancient hydroponics labs have merit. There are several locations throughout the city that seem to be ideally suited—already set up as well—for such environments. The Ancients had to have had another method for raising fresh produce apart from relying on mainland crops, as we have been forced to do. Under Doctor Edwards' plan, several primary locations have been designated as initial hydroponics gardens, and I believe that within time—a year or two—there can be several large gardens throughout the city, producing a portion of the city's crops for its increasing population, providing a much more stable and regulated source of fresh food._

Nodding to himself, he finished the passage, saving the document to his hard drive. Glancing at the time, he locked down his workstation and grabbed his tablet PC and empty coffee mug, intending to stop in the mess hall to replenish his beverage before the 0930 briefing.

He walked through the halls, eyes focused on the floor, his long strides eating up the distance. In and out of the mess hall within a matter of a minute, a full cup of coffee in his hands, he strode to the transporter, waiting only a few seconds before he was on his way to the central tower and the briefing room. He'd timed it perfectly, he realized, walking in just behind Radek. Sheppard, Ronon, Teyla, and Elizabeth were already present, each moving to take their respective seats.

After a few minutes of settling-in time, Weir began, her gaze taking in everyone present. "Good morning, everyone." She nodded toward Rodney. "Good to see you back at work, Rodney." He offered her a brief nod in response before she continued. "What are the highlights, Colonel?"

"We don't have that much to go on," Sheppard said, referring to the information in the PC tablets littering the table. "According to the information in the Ancient database, it seems this planet served as an outpost during the final days of the war."

"Which means?"

"We're looking for an Ancient outpost," Rodney said, trying to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Actually, we're looking for an Ancient outpost I believe was also a center for weapons development."

Elizabeth turned to him, her eyes narrowing. "Why hasn't this come to light prior to now? We certainly could have used this kind of advantage a few months ago."

"Obviously, we didn't know about it until now," he commented, his response curt. "I've spent considerable time in the Ancient database over the past few days and this was one of the locations that seemed to be the most promising." Rodney shifted in his chair, his fingers darting across the touch-screen, bringing up some of the details on the large screen in the room.

As schematics of the installation interspersed with Ancient scrolled on the display, Rodney spoke. "As Colonel Sheppard said, we don't know much about it. From the little we've been able to ascertain, it seems as if the Ancients used this particular location to design and develop weapons. I'm hoping there might be various prototypes or even some completed yet untested devices we can examine along with the plans of course."

Radek, seated next to him, was nodding. "Once we find the outpost itself, I would recommend a full evaluation of its contents and a complete download of the database. Since this appears to be a major center for development, the information is probably also only contained in this location."

"You have to find the outpost?" Weir asked, glancing back and forth between the scientists.

"It seems as if the Ancients didn't want just anyone stumbling across it," Rodney said. "We have vague instructions in the main database here, but I believe it may have been one of the locations that was under the 'need to know' heading. It might also be why it didn't come up in some of our initial searches."

Weir nodded. "Possibly." She turned to Sheppard, her expression thoughtful. "What are your plans?"

"Well," he began, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on the table, "we're going to follow the directions provided by the science department and locate the outpost. Once there, it's up to Doctor Zelenka. We'll bring back anything small enough to carry to allow for further study under controlled conditions."

"Do you think it's safe?"

"I'll leave that up to the good doctor to decide. Once he has access to the local computer system we should be able to make a much better evaluation," Sheppard said.

Weir nodded. "Any current inhabitants?"

Rodney shook his head, his fingers tapping the touch screen in front of him as environmental information appeared on the overhead screen. "According to the database, the world was unoccupied, but that information is outdated. The MALP we sent yesterday came back with atmospheric readings, and they don't indicate any kind of permanent industrial settlement and no signs of life in the immediate gate area. While it's doubtful there are inhabitants, I'd recommend caution. Thanks to the Wraith, most of the people we've met here are very good at hiding."

"Agreed," Weir said, turning back to Sheppard. "How long do you think would be advisable?"

Sheppard glanced toward Radek. "Do you think twelve hours is enough time?

Zelenka shrugged. "It depends on what is there and how long it takes us to find the outpost."

"I'll give you the green light for an initial twelve-hour survey of the planet. If you need more time, we can always extend it," Weir said, making notes on her small PDA. She glanced up a few beats later, her gaze trolling the room. "Anything else to add?"

When no one commented, she continued. "What time were you looking to head out tomorrow, Colonel?"

"The earlier the better."

Weir nodded. "I'll schedule you for an 0800 departure. Also, John, until we know what Major Lorne's plans are for tonight and tomorrow—depending on the status of the Athosians on the mainland—you may want to arrange to have someone else take over some of your duties."

"Agreed. I'll get that set up this afternoon," he replied with a brief nod.

"Good. I think that's all," she said, glancing around again, a brief smile filtering across her face. "Dismissed." She paused, glancing down at her PDA as chairs scrapped against the floor. Rodney, gathering his mug and tablet PC, was just rising from his chair when Weir looked up again, pinning him in place. "Rodney, if you have a minute I'd like to go over a few other items on the agenda for today."

"Of course," he replied, as she turned back to her own device, a knot forming in his stomach as he re-took his seat. Radek paused by the door, looking back at him, but McKay shook his head, indicating that he shouldn't stay. Zelenka scowled at him, but proceeded out into the hall, the briefing room doors closing behind him.

"How are you settling in?"

Rodney turned back to Elizabeth, confusion on his face. "What?"

Weir leaned forward, her forehead creased in what seemed to be concern. "I wanted to know how you were settling into everything."

"Fine," he replied. "It's not like I've never done the job before. Actually, I have a ton more time to work on projects that always end up getting pushed to the back burner." He paused, tilting his head as his lips formed a thin line. He tried not to sound too curt, but he wasn't in the mood for her placating nature right now. He didn't want to play her 'let's be friends again' or 'let's make nice' game. "You had some questions about the other mission briefings scheduled for today?"

Nodding quickly, she reaching for her PDA. She scrolled through a few pages before glancing back up, her professional mask back in place. "We have two other teams scheduled to go out tomorrow, each team searching for what looks like additional Ancient outposts or warehouses."

"Yes, that's correct." He waited, knowing the other shoe was about ready to make a horrendous racket as it tumbled to the floor. Based on his educated guesses, he didn’t think she'd question his choice of mission destinations. They were always looking for additional Ancient technology and resources to help them to better understand those that had come before. Searching for some of the last-known bases of operations was nearly a foregone conclusion. Unless of course she thought that he had ulterior motives; that she knew what was going on in his head better than he did.

"Is there any particular reason why all these planets have come up now?" She raised her head, her dark eyes intense.

McKay shrugged, trying not to let his anxiety reach his facial expressions. "I've finally had the chance to really dig into the database, and used a few different search methods. These looked promising. You never know when the Wraith are going to decide they want to check and make sure Atlantis is still gone. We don't have enough energy in the ZedPM to hold them back for long."

"I'm not going to argue with you—we need any advantage we can get."

He paused, waiting for her to continue, the silence stretched between them. He shifted in his chair. "And I'm sitting here…why again?"

"I wanted to go over the missions you've scheduled for the teams."

"So, let's go over them," he said, calling her bluff. "If you have specific questions, please ask them. I'll be happy to elaborate on anything you want to know. If not, I have work I need to do."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, her lips pursing together into a thin line. She nodded briskly, sharply. "Then, I won't keep you from your work. You will be attending the briefings scheduled this afternoon?"

"Of course," he said rising to his feet, the unsaid 'where else would I be' hanging in the air between them.

She nodded again, her gaze dropping back to her PDA, her shoulders hunching in a little more.

He moved quickly, striding out of the briefing room, refusing to glance back.

***

"So, Doc, how's it going?" Major Lorne asked, casually leaning against one of the large supports for the hut wall as a white coat-clad Carson Beckett stepped into his now-empty waiting room.

Beckett glanced around, his eyes scanning the area before settling on Lorne, the weariness clearly evident. "Am I finished? I thought—"

"You're finished for today. I sent Anne to our overnight accommodations. She was beginning to fall asleep sitting here."

The Doctor's face quickly turned from curiosity and concern to annoyance. "That was a tad bit presumptuous on your part, Major," he began, his words heated, only to stop at Lorne's upraised hand.

"I know, I know. I should have talked to you first before making sure Halling had somewhere for us to stay overnight. And I know I should have asked you first before I told Anne to leave, but she was dead on her feet. I was worried you were going to have another patient if I didn't send her for food and sleep." Lorne paused, shifting forward so he was standing upright. He took a few steps toward the doctor before pausing again.

"I know you want to get home as soon as possible. You've been working yourself at a hectic pace. But, it's late and there're still a handful of people that need to see you. They can wait until the morning. We'll head back to Atlantis in the afternoon. It's only twelve hours more at this point."

Carson scowled. "I guess there isn't any way to talk ye out of this."

Lorne shook his head. "Already called home and let them know we were spending the night."

"And ye did that, when?" Beckett asked, a single eyebrow raised, a knowing expression on his face.

Lorne glanced away, heat rushing to his cheeks. "This afternoon. It was pretty obvious."

Carson stepped over to the chairs set along the side of the room, allowing his body to slump into the closest one. "This is a little more complicated than I originally thought."

"The check-ups?"

"Nae, those are easy. It's this disease, virus, whatever it is," he replied, his hand waving tiredly in the air. He took another step closer to Lorne as he continued. "I haven't seen anything like it and it's pretty potent. Knocked some of these folks for a loop, but they seem to be over the brunt of it. I just don't know why they didn't ask for medical assistance earlier, when it was limited to only a few people. Now, we may have to so a more thorough check of the entire Athosian population and Atlantis as well. I'm not sure how it'll react to the city's population."

"How contagious it is?"

Carson shrugged. "I don’t know for sure, but these people I'm checking today should have been much better than they are. And most can't pinpoint when or where they may have contracted it. The test results I was going over yesterday gave me a little insight into this bugger, but not enough. It's not behaving as I thought it should. And," he added a little hesitantly, "I think—I'm not certain though—that there have been some deaths. The very young, the very old—those most susceptible. There's been some…talk among the Athosians, but nothing concrete."

"We need to tell Doctor Weir about this."

"Aye," Beckett said, nodding wearily. "But until we know more, I don't want to alarm her. It might be an isolated incident. I don't want to check everyone if we don't have to. A waste of time and resources."

"So, what's next?"

"I'm gonna have tae go to the jumper and let Elizabeth know what's going on and then finish the follow-up visits. Once I get everything back to the labs on Atlantis I'll know more."

"Are we in any danger?"

"I don't know," Carson shrugged apologetically, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "I don't think so. We haven't come down with any of the symptoms since we were here last week and the cases were worse then."

Lorne nodded his head slowly. "Okay, Doc. We'll play it your way for now. So, do I want to know the symptoms?"

"Let's keep you in the dark, Major. You can be my yellow canary."

"Oh, thanks," Lorne said, rolling his eyes. "So if I get it then you'll know we're all contagious."

"You did say you wanted to help," Carson said with a smile, as he rose to his feet, shuffling over to the other man. "Point me to the jumper and I'll go and make that call."

Lorne threw and arm over Beckett's shoulders. "I'll do you one better. I'll give you a personal escort. I wouldn't want you to get lost."

The doctor tossed a scowl his way. "I think you might be referring to Colonel Sheppard's legendary skills on the ground. I, however, am quite good with directions."

"Consider it part of the service then, Doc."

***

Teyla, dressed in her workout clothes, her fighting sticks in hand, walked through the halls of Atlantis getting sidelong glances from everyone she passed.

The Atlanteans were strange. It was as if they had never seen skin before, and yet there were times when all her preconceived notions about them changed drastically.

Rolling her eyes as the head of yet another Marine turned, she rounded the corridor, her goal clearly in sight, light spilling from the open doorway and into the hallway. Stopping just outside the lab, she glanced in, her gaze settling on the figure hunched over the desk, two computer laptops before him, a hand resting on the keyboard of each. Papers covered the rest of the desk's surface, scattered in what looked like random piles, the corners of the sheets bent and standing on end. She spotted glimpses of silver wrappers peeking out from between the scribbled and marked pages. A white ceramic coffee mug sat off to the right side, nearly at the edge of the workstation, brown stains dried on the side.

Muttering to himself, Rodney McKay continued to work, fingers typing on the keyboards, his eyes snapping back and forth between the two devices, seemingly oblivious to her scrutiny.

Stepping into the room, Teyla slowly approached the desk making a conscious effort to make some noise as she moved. There was no point in scaring the scientist. Before she could reach her destination, however, he spoke, startling her, his voice cold.

"You wanted something?"

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to look at him a little closer. He had yet to glance away from the screens and toward her. When she didn't reply immediately, his bloodshot blue eyes finally rose to meet hers over the top of the computer. "You were standing there staring for quite some time. Obviously you wanted something."

"You missed our workout session," she said, choosing simplicity instead of confrontation.

"Oh," he replied, his eyes widening slightly before his eyes shifted once again, fixed solidly on the computer screen. His body twitched subtly. "That was tonight?"

Rodney McKay was a terrible liar. It wasn't that he was incapable of misdirection or speaking a falsehood. However, his own body always seemed to rebel against its most basic nature when he attempted it.

Before she could speak, he continued, his words bulldozing over whatever she was going to say—even though she had yet to formulate a response.

"Look, this is really a bad time. I’m in the middle of several projects and I can't exactly drop everything just to play Conan to your Xena. I barely have enough time to get the idiotic scientists to stop trying to blow up the labs on a regular basis I’m surprised I get a chance to work on my own research at all. I finally managed to string together a few spare minutes and I can't stop in the middle."

He paused, taking a breath before plunging forward once again, his tone a little less aggressive than it was at first, his volume substantially reduced. His eyes were fixed on the edge of the desk where the fingers of his right hand swept back and forth in short strokes against the cool, dark surface.

"Besides, it's not like I'll have any use for the training anymore. I've been thinking fieldwork might not be a good idea—at least in my case. I have more than enough to occupy my time here on the base without the life and death situations I find myself in on a regular basis."

"Doctor McKay," Teyla finally said, breaking in as the physicist took another breath. "Are you not making a hasty decision? You have nearly two more weeks before you are placed back on the mission lists. Might it not be advantageous to wait and see how you feel then?"

McKay shrugged, his fingers still in motion, his head down. "I don’t think anything will change."

"You have already made up your mind."

"No," he replied, shaking his head and glancing up. "That's not it. I'm not sure the decision to remain on the team is entirely mine to make."

"Surely everyone can see how much you have done in behalf of the city and its inhabitants." Her forehead creased as she thought further. "Why would they not allow you to continue?"

"Not everyone blows up a solar system."

She inclined her head. "That is most certainly true. However, is it not the nature of all things to make mistakes?"

McKay turned away, the muscles in his jaw tightening, the muttered words barely reaching Teyla's ears. "It shouldn't happen with me."

Teyla opened her mouth to say something else, but he turned sharply, anger etched into his features. "Look," he said, "I don't have time for this…this…sharing thing we've started and I have even less time or desire to be beaten by a pair of sticks. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to work."

Turning back to his computers, he bowed his head, pointedly ignoring her, his fingers tapping on the keyboards, his mouth set in a thin line.

Waiting several moments, Teyla finally nodded to herself, moving out, the clicking of the computer keys following her down the hall.

***

"So this might be an outbreak of some kind?" Doctor Elizabeth Weir said, glancing over her desk toward Colonel Sheppard who was sitting tensely in one of her quest chairs. The call had come in from Carson several minutes ago and when he'd given her a brief overview she'd asked him to wait, pulling Sheppard into the call as well.

"I dunna know for sure," came the Doctor's weary reply. "Once I get these round of tests to the lab and examined I'll know more, but it has got me a little worried."

"I thought you said in your report that it was nothing to be concerned about," Sheppard said.

"And I don't think it will be, but at this point I'd rather be cautious."

"So, what do you want us to do now?" Weir asked, leaning forward, her elbows on her desk.

"Nothing. I just wanted to give you and update and let you know that I was concerned. There's no need to put anyone into panic mode."

"We might want to halt off-world missions for the meantime, or at least until you can figure out what the problem is," she suggested, her eyes widening at Sheppard who nodded in agreement from his slumped position in one of the guest chairs in her office. He'd snagged one of the smaller statues and was twirling it in his hands. She shot him an annoyed glance, but he ignored her.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Elizabeth," Carson said. "It might be nothing—"

"But it might be something."

"But we've had no symptoms at all on Atlantis," Carson argued, a hint of weariness in his voice. "Right now it's confined to the mainland."

"Fine," Elizabeth said, nodding once. "We'll keep the missions as scheduled, but if you find out anything—"

"I'll let you know immediately, aye," Carson replied quickly.

"Okay. Thanks for the update, Doctor," Weir said. "We'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Stay well."

"Aye. That's my plan. Tomorrow then. Have a good night."

As Beckett signed off, Weir shut down the connection on her end, taking a deep breath as she looked across her desk at John. "This could be a problem."

"Maybe," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Beckett does seem worried, but no more than usual. It's probably some old childhood disease no one's seen in a while, that's all. The Pegasus' version of adult chicken pox."

"But that can be deadly."

"Not in most cases it isn't. More annoying than anything—at least that's what I've heard." Sheppard paused, taking a deep breath. "Do you still want us going out in the morning? I can delay the mission until Lorne and Beckett come back."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. I want things to continue as is for now. If the doctor thought there was a chance of contamination then it would be a different story." She paused, pulling her worries and her thoughts together. "But let's be smart about this. If there's anything wrong, even if it's a minor complaint, I want you back here immediately."

"Fine." He shifted in his chair and slowly rose to his feet placing the figurine back where it belonged. His other hand reached up to rub at the back of his neck. "I should probably get myself together since we're shipping out early."

"Have a good night, John," she said, offering a tight, thin-lipped smile.

"You should get some rest. You look like you can use it," he said, pausing at the cusp of her office, glancing back over his shoulder, his body half-turned.

She nodded. "I will. I want to get through a few more of these reports before I call it a night."

John raised an eyebrow, his lips drawing up in a small smile. "Night." Turning, he strode out into the control room, speaking briefly with the techs on duty before ambling down the stairs and out of her sight.

Sighing, Elizabeth turned back to the reports. If she knew this job would involve so much red tape and paperwork, she might have thought twice about agreeing to come. But, given the opportunity to explore a whole new galaxy…that was a little hard to turn down. She just wished bureaucracy hadn't followed her here.

***

Rodney McKay glanced up, squinting at the cabinet across the room before dropping his gaze to his wristwatch. It was late—or early—depending on how you looked at it. The meetings he'd had, spread through the entire day, had taken up way too much time. And then Teyla had insisted on having a little heart-to-heart. Between all of the distractions, he hadn't gotten much done, which was why he was still in his office at 0200 in the morning.

If Carson could see him now…

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he turned back to this computer, his eyes on the screen, but not focused on the data displayed there.

Who was he kidding? As much as Beckett ranted and threatened and complained, it wasn't like he really cared about what he was doing or when he was working. Beckett's job was to keep him healthy enough for when they really needed him, for when they needed him to pull something out of his ass—not that it did much good as of late.

He'd found more references to other Ancient outposts and research stations. Some of them were strictly for medical research. He'd give those to Carson once he got back from the mainland, and let him figure out what everything meant and what was important. Several were military in nature—weapons research and storage. He had no clue about the rest, apart from the fact that the Ancients used these locations on a regular basis. Maybe they were meeting points, staging areas for attack fleets. He had to find out more about them before he could give any kind of mission recommendation.

But right now, he needed Sheppard's mission later today to go well. If the information he had on hand was even just remotely right, Zelenka should come back with a truckload of gadgets and gizmos. Some of them, he knew, would be exactly what he was looking for.

***

Radek Zelenka stumbled into the gate room, his heavy pack making him unsteady on his feet. He didn't really like going off-world. Too many uncertainties, too many variables, too many chances for something unexpected to happen.

But, he also knew that a lot of the situations the team encountered called for scientists. This was an opportunity of a lifetime, to work on alien technology in another galaxy—he just wished it was a little less hazardous to his health.

Colonel Sheppard, Teyla, and Ronon were already in the gateroom, waiting at the bottom of the stairs as he rounded the final corner.

"Ah, there's the good doctor now," said Sheppard with a tight smile. He turned, craning his neck to look upwards where Doctor Weir was standing on one of the balcony's overlooking the room below. "We're set to go."

"Dial the planet," she ordered, her expression serious. A few seconds later the wormhole connected, the puddle settling inside the lighted circle.

"We're receiving telemetry from the MALP on the planet," the gate tech said, studying the screen before him. There was another pause and Radek knew the camera was surveying the immediate Stargate clearing. "Looks clear, ma'am."

Weir nodded once. "It looks like you have a go. Be safe."

"Always," Sheppard said, already heading for the gate, his weapon drawn and at the ready. Ronon was only a few paces behind him. Teyla, however, was at his side, her concerned gaze looking him over.

"Are you ready Doctor Zelenka?"

He nodded hesitantly. "As ready as I’m going to be."

She offered him a smile and walked beside him toward the open wormhole. "We will protect you. Doctor. We have no intention of letting anything harm you."

"That's good to know, but I've also seen how often Rodney comes back in need of medical attention. Please do not be insulted if I do not believe you."

If anything, her smile widened. "We shall have to show you that we speak truth." She paused beside him, only a single step from the event horizon. "Are you prepared?"

He nodded and stepped into the cold wishing he was still curled up in his bed.

***

John Sheppard held the sensor in his left hand, scowling at the screen while his right hand held his P90 against his chest so it wouldn't bounce as they walked through the forest. That was one downside to having Zelenka on his team—he couldn't use Ancient devices, but at least he could interpret what came up on the screen.

"Colonel, are you still getting energy readings?"

He tried not to sigh as he rolled his eyes at the Czech's question. "Yes, for the fifteenth time."

"Are they changing? Increasing? Decreasing?"

"They're steady."

"Are we walking around in circles then? The reading should be changing." Zelenka shook his head, his voice dropping. "Rodney warned me about this."

John's eyes narrowed as he glanced over at the scientist. "About what?"

"Your substantial lack of direction on the ground. I did not believe it to be true, however. It is amazing that even with the Ancient device you still end up walking around in circles."

Trying not to let his annoyance and anger rise to the surface, John stopped, turning to glare at the scientist instead. "Would you like to try?"

"No, no," Zelenka grinned, his eyes showing his amusement. "I'm simply curious about the statistical improbability of a pilot unable to find his way on the ground."

John shifted his gaze, his eyes moving to glance at Teyla and Ronon who were remaining silent, although he could see they were enjoying Radek's teasing. "Fine. We might be walking in circles, but I'm not getting a direct signal to indicate much of anything, let alone an entrance. And if we don't find something soon we're going to have to turn around and head home."

Zelenka's gaze turned inward for a moment and John could swear that he could hear the scientist's mind working on the problem from across the clearing. "Have you tried scanning for additional power sources or energy signatures? We might not be looking for ZPM energy readings, but instead something else entirely." He paused, the scowl on his face quickly transforming to a tangible idea. "Have you tried looking for cloaking technology? The energy that is required to maintain an Ancient's cloak is very high but it also gives off a very distinctive signature. If the Ancients did not want to be discovered, they may have cloaked the entire base."

Part of John wanted to ask why they weren't looking for that in the first place, but he held his tongue.

Reaching around behind him, Zelenka unclipped his pack, letting Teyla catch it before it hit the dirt. He knelt down, digging inside, his hands pulling out a cable and his tablet PC. Sitting down on the dirt next to his pack, he fiddled with the computer for several moments, before wiggling his fingers toward Sheppard in a very McKay-like gesture. The physicist was rubbing off on everyone in the science department it seemed.

John moved closer, taking the end of the cord Zelenka handed him once he was in range, the fingers of the scientist's right hand continually poking at the touch screen. "Attach this to the scanner," he ordered without looking up. The other end was already plugged into the PC in his lap.

He complied, waiting for the scientist's next order. Zelenka scowled at the computer several times, his fingers hesitating over several keys before making a final decision. The scanner in John's hands immediately went dark.

"Ah, Radek…" John began, only to be waved off by the seated scientist.

"I'm rebooting the hand scanner. I wrote a patch asking the scanner to look for a very specific energy signature. Rodney will not like that I am altering the firmware, but we shall not tell him."

"How long until it reboots?"

"A few more seconds."

And sure enough, a few beats later the scanner lit up in John's hand, the screen showing an entirely different set of readings. "Whoa," he said, his eyes widening as he began to turn in a circle, watching as the readings changed. Zelenka stopped him with a hand against his leg, pulling the cable from the handheld.

"Now. What do you see?" He asked, tucking the cable away but hanging onto the PC. Teyla stepped forward once again to help him re-attach his pack.

"I'm not sure, but whatever it's picking up it's higher in that direction," John responded, lifting his hand to point back from where they came.

"Good. Let us find this base and bring back toys for the scientists to play with. It has been a long time since one of the teams have brought us anything worthwhile."

***

Carson sighed as the jumper touched down in the bay. They were later than they'd originally thought they'd be, an emergency call in the middle of the night giving him a late start in the morning after catching only a few hours of sleep.

One of the patient's he'd seen earlier in the day had been complaining of severe discomfort, his relatives clamoring at his door in the wee hours of the morning. He'd checked him over again, finally giving him some Tylenol to bring down the fever, and an injection to help with the nausea. He'd also fed him electrolyte-enhanced fluids to replace what he'd lost. It had been bad, but not life-threatening—at least not at this point.

Carson wanted to bring him to the infirmary on Atlantis to keep a closer eye on him, but until he knew more about what he was dealing with he was hesitant. As it was, he insisted on decontamination procedures for the three of them.

Just outside the cockpit window, he saw three members of his medical staff suited up in their gear, ready with the portable decontamination equipment. They'd set up a small location in the corner of the bay and would scrub everything down as well as the jumper in which they'd traveled. He'd also ordered Shelly Laurence, one of his nurses who'd accompanied them last week, to the infirmary for a check-up—just in case.

He had told Elizabeth he didn't think there was going to be a problem, but there was something in his gut warning him to take it slow. The initial test results had been inconclusive. He just hoped the new samples would shed more light as to what this little bugger was.

Now, with a case-full of samples by his side and a full-decontamination process still to come, the stress of the unknown washed over him. He had to get the samples to the lab and get his staff working on them immediately, but until they were clear he didn't want to risk the general population—just in case.

"Doctor Beckett?"

Lifting his head, he squinted through the forward window as he reached for the button to turn the radio on. "Doctor Biro? I didn't think you'd be here."

"Well, since there wasn't much else going on at the moment, I figured going through this little decontamination exercise of yours would be good practice. Besides," she added and Carson swore she had a broad grin on her face, although he couldn’t be sure, "how often do I get the chance to see my boss with his knickers around his ankles?"

"Doctor…" he warned too shocked to be angry.

"The bay's clear and we have everything set up, so whenever you want to head on out we'll get started. I know you want to get those samples to the lab, and the quicker we get you cleared, the faster you can get back to work," she continued, bowling over whatever he was going to say. The medical team had already moved out of his view around to the back of the bay where they'd set up shop.

Beckett nodded once to Lorne who was sitting stiffly in the pilot's chair. They'd…argued…on the way back to Atlantis about the necessity of this whole process, but after a quick discussion with Elizabeth, she'd agreed to err on the side of caution.

The major concentrated for a moment and the rear door began to descend revealing the interior of a makeshift white plastic room, the rear entrance of the jumper cut off from the rest of the bay.

He hated this part.

***

Running a hand over his face, Rodney McKay leaned back, stretching the muscles in his back. He'd spent a good portion of the day so far deep in the bowels of Atlantis. About two hours after he'd finally pulled himself away from his laptop to get a little rest, he'd gotten the call from Swartson about power failures. As fast at they had been re-routing circuits, they couldn't seem to find the source of the problem.

Instead of sleeping, he'd headed back to the labs, running several diagnostics before sending repair crews into the city. It seemed some of the back-up systems were acting up, the interfaces with the Earth-based equipment the primary culprits. After everything the city had been through in the past few months, it wasn't a surprise. Many of their repairs had been patches of patches, temporary fixes until they had the time for more permanent solutions—time they'd never found.

So, here he was, elbow-deep in several control panels and systems, checking and double-checking each and every connection before closing up one and moving onto the next. Three other teams were spread out in various other parts of the cities—two per team—taking care of the primary systems that had been affected. Currently, internal communications was spotty at best, the Earth-based audio equipment suddenly deciding not to talk to the system built into the city. Where he was—deep in the under-belly of the main spire—he was lucky to be able to reach a few levels above his head. The thicker deck plating and power conduits running through this section were especially notorious for hindering Earth-based audio communication.

Every now and then he'd catch the garbled end of a conversation, but unless they came looking for him—or he heard his name in a message—he ignored it. He had the urge to turn the damn thing off just to stop the high-pitched static and white noise that squawked out occasionally, making him jump at the most inappropriate times. Unfortunately, one of the Marines had visited an hour or so ago, bringing several messages from the other teams. He'd also run up several levels earlier on when the frantic repetition of his name broke through the static.

This was no way to run a city.

In the next Daedalus run, he was going to ask for plumbers and electricians—anyone with a more practical application of their degrees, half a brain, and a willingness to be creative and think outside the box. A lot of the problems they ended up fixing were minor, but because most of the science department were paper-pushers instead of Mister Fix-Its, repairs were never done quite right—except for his, of course.

Digging into his pack, he pulled out a water bottle and a PowerBar, turning and shifting until his back was pressed against the nearest wall, the cool metal seeping through his shirt and jacket, his legs stretched out in front of him. Yanking the wrapper open, the silver tearing at an angle until the seam at the back halted its progress, Rodney bit down, nearly inhaling a third of the bar in one bite.

Popping open his bottle, he tilted it back against his lips, several mouthfuls of water washing down the peanut butter-flavored energy bar.

He hated this.

He'd spent the last eight hours trying to fix things that shouldn't have broken—if they'd been fixed correctly the first time—and he had several more hours yet to go. The other three teams were each on a different pier, working as quickly and as carefully as possible.

Rodney wished Radek was here, coordinating everything from the science labs and yelling at him, but the scientist was off-world exploring the places he should have been seeing. Releasing the breath he'd been holding, he gnawed off another piece of the PowerBar.

He was worried.

What if there was something on that planet they couldn't decipher? What if it was inhabited and the natives were hostile? Although, hostile natives were a given in this universe. What if they needed two people with the Ancient gene? What if they got lost? Rodney had firsthand experience with Sheppard's sense of direction.

But, it was out of his hands. All he could do was hope for the best and pray the database and his extrapolations from it were correct. After the last screw up, anything was possible.

Shaking his head, he quickly finished off his snack and the rest of his water bottle, stowing the garbage in his pack. Groaning as he shifted position, he slowly rose to his knees and get his feet back under him. Aiming a stern look at the open panel, he sighed and picked up his tools, getting back to work.

***

"This is it?" John Sheppard asked, disbelief thick in his voice.

Ronon turned to face the two men, all his senses on alert. He'd been jumpy since they'd arrived, but he wasn't sure why or what had set him off—and he didn’t like not knowing.

Sheppard was staring at the scientist, confusion with a tinge of anger underlying his expression. He looked back at the device in his hands before glancing back up to the doctor.

"What did you expect?" asked Zelenka, his hands waving, his thin, brown hair unruly, his eyes wide behind the glasses that refused to remain in place. "You are the one holding the scanner. Are you telling me that you cannot read it?"

"I can read it just fine," Sheppard replied curtly, gesturing toward the rock face they were standing before with the hand that was still gripping McKay's scanner. It was odd, Ronon thought, narrowing his eyes as he watched Sheppard and Zelenka. Even though McKay wasn't here, he was. The scientific equipment Zelenka sported and used as easily as the other scientist was, in Ronon's mind, forever linked to the loud-mouthed physicist.

On the other side of the galaxy and McKay's personality overshadowed their every step. Maybe that was what was setting his senses on edge. He missed the complaining, the constant chatter that told him that everything was fine. Zelenka had the teasing part down, as well as some of the insults, but he didn't stand a chance against McKay's constant chatter.

Siding his eyes to his other teammate, he saw she was watching the other two men carefully, amusement fighting with exasperation on her face.

"I just thought there would be more here than a stupid hole in the hill, that's all."

"If you like, I can take several weeks and create great mountainous ruins for you to crawl through before reaching this point," Zelenka suggested. He turned to Ronon, incorporating him in the conversation. "Specialist Dex will be eager to help with the project, I'm sure. Would that be more to your liking?"

Sheppard scowled and Ronon had to hold back a laugh. What was it about the Atlantean scientists that gave them such balls on off-world missions? He'd thought McKay was the exception to the rule, but the more he worked with these people the more he realized it seemed to be a character trait of nearly the entire delegation. Although they might appear to be weak, there was a core of strength in each of them.

"Doctor Zelenka," Teyla said, drawing their attention, "is there more to the Ancient outpost?"

"Yes, of course," he replied, pushing his glasses back to the bridge of his nose absently. "I believe the 'hole in a hill' that Colonel Sheppard referred to is merely a portal through which we must enter the facility. I also believe this mountain is an image, a very sophisticated cloak designed to hide the outpost from prying eyes."

"But we found it." Ronon said.

"Yes, we did, but we knew exactly what to look for—more or less."

"So, can we go in?" Sheppard asked, clearly anxious to do something more than talk and hike.

"It might be prudent to take more readings before walking into an outpost we cannot see."

"So, take more readings. We don't have all day." Sheppard began to move off, but stopped at Zelenka's voice.

"Colonel, I require your assistance."

"What?"

"Without ATA gene, I cannot use the hand scanner."

"For crying…" he began, his complaint dying on his lips. "Fine," he continued a moment later. "What do you need me to do?"

***

Elizabeth Weir swore she could still smell the decontamination cleansers as she walked into the infirmary several hours later. She's been a little surprised when Carson's request had come through earlier, especially since he'd been so adamant that there was nothing to worry about just fourteen hours earlier.

What had changed?

It made her all the more wary since she had three teams in the field; twelve of her people were out there, hopefully not spreading the next form of the bubonic plague.

Which was why she was here.

Maneuvering through the quiet room, one of the nurses glanced up from her PDA, flashing her a quick smile before turning back to the shelves she was organizing and inventorying. Weir offered a nod and a half-smile in return, her stride never hesitating, only pausing once she reached the doorway to Beckett's office.

She frowned, finding the room empty.

She turned back to the nurse. "Do you know where Doctor Beckett is?"

"He's not in his office?" she asked, taking a few steps toward her, confusion on her face. "He was there a few minutes ago."

"He's not there now. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"

The other woman shrugged. "The lab, maybe? He's been arguing with them since he got back."

Elizabeth tried not to sigh. "Thank you," she said to the nurse before turning back to stand in the relative privacy offered by the closet-like office of her chief medical officer. She tapped her headset. "Weir to Beckett."

It took a few moments before he replied, his voice rushed. "Beckett here. What did ye want, Elizabeth? I’m in the middle of something."

"I came down here to get an update," she replied, trying not to let her annoyance drip into her voice.

"You're in the infirmary then?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Nae a thing," he replied quickly before taking a long pause. "Look, I'm sorry ye came all the way down for an update, but I don't have much to tell you. Let me finish some of these tests and then I'll come up and give you a report."

"I need to know what we're dealing with, Carson. We have teams in the field."

"Aye, I know. We haven't been able to figure everything out yet. I need more time."

"Do you know anything?"

Beckett hesitated. "I'd rather not say until I know more. I might be wrong."

"About what?" Her words were loud, forced out through clenched teeth. She swung around, glancing over her shoulder toward the center of the infirmary, wondering how far her voice had carried.

"Elizabeth," Beckett said, his tone level and pleading, urging her to listen. "Give me time and I'll answer all of your questions."

"Carson—"

"I'll come up as soon as I have something."

Weir sighed, knowing she couldn’t rush him, but wanting to know immediately what her options were. "I'll be waiting."

"Aye, I know ye will."

***

After nearly an hour of readings, John Sheppard had had enough.

"Aren't you done yet?"

Radek shook his head, his hair moving with the motion. "There is still more data to analyze before we can enter. Elizabeth would not look kindly if you were injured because of a wrong assumption."

Sheppard tried not to sigh, instead opting to spit out his next question through his clenched jaw. "Do you know how to get in there?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, of course. I have known for some time how to proceed into the structure, but I was still attempting to ascertain the exact layout and purpose of the various—"

"You can get us in there now?"

Radek glanced up at him, his eyes wide. "Yes. Did I not just say that or was I imagining it?"

"Ronon," John said as the Satedan rose from where he'd sprawled an hour ago, "we're going in. I want you to watch our six. I'll let you know when the coast is clear."

The man nodded, his hand on the handle of his weapon as his gaze raked through the area around them.

"But Colonel—" Radek protested, but John refused to be put off any longer.

"The only way we're going to see what's in there is if we go. I appreciate your caution, but you're over-doing it. Sometimes an old Ancient outpost is just an old Ancient outpost."

Pulling the hand scanner from a pocket, be turned it on, pointing it in the direction that the strongest reading was coming from. He heard more than saw Zelenka scrabble to his feet, his tablet PC clutched to his chest. Raising his P90, Sheppard took a few steps closer, watching as the readings increased. He was nearly on top of the cloaking field. "Teyla, keep an eye on the good doctor."

"Colonel!" Zelenka protested again as the tip of John's weapon vanished.

He pulled it out, checking to make sure it was in one piece. Nodding, he positioned the weapon again, moving forward at a faster clip, feeling only a slight tingle as he stepped through—and into what looked like the Antarctic base.

Keying his radio, he spoke. "Can you read me?"

"Colonel, are you all right?" Teyla replied, her voice showing her concern. "You just disappeared."

"I'm fine. Bring everyone through, the coast is clear," he said, his eyes constantly surveying the room he'd stepped into. A stumbling step behind him alerted him to the presence of the rest of his team. Turning, he caught sight of Zelenka's awe-filled face, his eyes seeming to caress the architecture and the walls around them.

"Radek?"

When John didn't get an immediate reaction he repeated the scientist's name, before finally taping him on the shoulder. "Doctor Z."

"This is amazing, Colonel," he replied, shaking off the other man's hand, moving into the room, heading for the nearest panel. "It looks just like the outpost SG-1 discovered that led us to Atlantis. I would have thought this location would be different, somehow, since it was built for a different purpose."

"We think it was, " commented Sheppard. "Who knows, it could have originally just been an outpost and not a weapons development facility."

The scientist didn't answer as he stopped before one of the inactive consoles. After a moment he turned, his eyes fixed on John. "Would you…" He waved his hand as his voice petered off.

Sheppard rolled his eyes and lowered his weapon, nodding as he moved forward. "So, now you want me to turn it on."

"Of course," Radek said. "You are the one with the magic gene that talks to machinery."

Setting his hand on the top of the console he thought briefly, mentally asking the system to turn on. A few beats later and the lights flickered on throughout the entire facility, every panel lit from within, and each overhead light shining brightly.

"Thank you, Colonel," Zelenka said, already moving beside him, the computer he carried perched on the top of the console, wires already connecting it to the Ancient equipment. Sheppard stepped a few feet back, giving the Czech room to maneuver.

The screen on the tablet PC changed several times before settling down into an interface that looked just like the Atlantis mainframe.

Zelenka hummed for a moment before his fingers descended upon the device, poking and sliding and moving continually. He paused after a moment before his pointer finger savagely pushed at the screen and he nodded to himself.

"I am downloading the information contained in this mainframe to my PC. It shall take time to get everything copied over."

"You can get everything?"

"Yes, yes," Zelenka nodded. "Rodney thought it was best to take his computer since it has the most storage space—even before the additional memory he added yesterday afternoon. According to the one screen I pulled up, the main storage unit is down the corridor to the left."

"You found it already?"

"Yes." Radek's voice was level, his eyes narrowing as his brow furrowed a little. "Was it not what we were looking for? The computer can download while we investigate. No?"

Sheppard shook his head, not sure he should be happy, excited, exasperated, or angry. The Czech was not what he expected. Sure, they'd worked together before, but nothing had prepared him for this.

"Teyla, take point. Doc, you're with me. Ronon, you've got our six. Let's see what the Ancients left behind."

***

Teyla moved slowly around the corners, all of her senses on high alert. Since she had joined with these people, she had been on many different planets, in many different places, had walked in places where the Ancestors had been.

This was unlike anything she had seen before.

Substantially smaller than Atlantis, this facility seemed to have never been inhabited, its starkness and silence disconcerting.

Ghosts still walked its halls.

Glancing over her shoulder, Sheppard gave her a nod to continue, his eyes hard, continually scanning the area as he walked beside the scientist. Ronon followed several paces behind them, his weapon out and ready to be used at a moment's notice.

"Teyla," Doctor Zelenka said, drawing her attention. "You should see a door coming up at the end of the hallway. That should be the main storage area. Colonel, you may have to open the door."

The Colonel nodded, gesturing for her to pause while he moved around her. She kept pace with the scientist as they proceeded, stopping only when they reached the dead end the doctor mentioned.

"Anything I should know before I touch anything?" Sheppard asked, his question tossed over his shoulder as he examined the panel beside the door.

"No," Zelenka said, shaking his head. "I do not believe there should be any problem."

"You don't believe?" Sheppard said, turning around, his eyes narrowing. "Are you sure about anything?"

"Yes. There is no one here but us. Of that, I cam certain."

The Colonel's eyes rolled upwards before he turned back to the panel, placing his hand gently on its surface and closing his eyes. A few moments later the large doors before them slid open, stall air rushing out from the room they revealed.

The doctor moved around Sheppard, the lights coming up in the large room as they entered, revealing shelving—complete with Ancient devices. Zelenka muttered something in another language before moving once again, his fingertips brushing against the nearest surface.

"Wow," Ronon said from his position behind her. The one word certainly expressed her feelings.

But even through her feelings of elation and wonder, she felt guilty, sad even. After nearly two years of searching, they had finally found a cache of Ancient devices—some of which were probably weapons to fight the Wraith—and Doctor McKay was not even here to see it.

***

Sitting back in his desk chair, Carson Beckett swore quietly under his breath in Gaelic knowing that if one of his nurses heard him they wouldn't understand anything he said—the phrases were certainly not designed for civilized company.

They'd run the tests several times already—some of them twice even—but this particular bugger was proving to be harder to diagnose than anything else they'd encountered.

It had similar characteristics to several viruses, but nothing was a direct match.

They were stumped.

There was no other way to say it. Between all of the doctors and researchers, they couldn't make sense of it one way or another. He still had teams working on the samples—some were doing DNA mapping while others investigated its structure, and another team compared its symptoms and tried to track its course and path through populations.

Carson knew Elizabeth wanted a report, but there was nothing new to tell her—yet.

They'd figure it out. They just needed more time.

***

"We need to take as much as we can," Radek Zelenka said, glancing over his shoulder, back toward the door where Ronon, Teyla, and Colonel Sheppard still stood, gaping at the storage room before them. Refocusing on the shelving before him, he shifted his glasses higher on his nose and stepped forward, his hands reaching out toward the nearest device.

It was like a dream come true. Rodney would be so jealous.

"Wait!"

Pulling his hand back suddenly at the shout, he looked toward Sheppard as an exasperated and angry expression flashed across the other man's face, only to be replaced by his professional mask.

"What? We need to decide which devices to collect for further study. I cannot do that simply by guessing."

Sheppard moved forward, his hand clutching his weapon, the knuckles turning white. "Isn't there any way to figure out what's on the shelves before any of us touch anything? Who knows what's in here. You said this was a weapons development center. I'm guessing most of this stuff probably doesn't need the ATA gene to be activated."

"Yes, Rodney surmised as much from the information in the database," Radek nodded, a finger tapping against his temple as his mind worked on the Colonel's question. The information was probably stored in the main database that he was downloading, but he didn't want to interrupt the process incase this was the only chance they had to gain that data. His eyes drifted around the room until they found a panel embedded in the wall, off to the side of the room, but not too far from the door. "Colonel," he said moving toward the object, "I believe this may help us. Can you open?"

"What?" He moved alongside Radek, Ronon and Teyla hovering just behind.

"You are the only one with ATA gene and since this is a secure facility, I doubt I will be able to pry the panel open with bare hands. I also do not relish bloodying fingernails."

He rolled his eyes, but shifted his weight, his hands rising to poke hesitantly at the panel, the tips of his fingers barely touching the surface.

"A more firm hand, Colonel, may be required. Scientists do not caress their equipment."

Radek was rewarded by a sharp glance from Sheppard, but he began to apply himself, muttering something under his breath that wasn't loud enough for Radek to catch. Shaking his head, he ignored the Colonel, watching instead as the other man felt around the outside of the panel, digging his nails in against the seam. A few beats later, he closed his eyes for a moment and moved his hand to the top. A click sounded throughout the room and the panel slowly opened revealing a smaller version of one of the control consoles, complete with screen and an Ancient command keyboard.

"Pomalé kolísání," he muttered as it lit up under Sheppard's touch. This technology never failed to amaze him. Glancing up to the Colonel with a grateful smile, he continued. "Thank you, I believe I can manage from here."

"You can read Ancient?"

"Enough to get by for now," he replied absently, already paging slowly though the screens of information. "The translation program on the computer would be beneficial; however, it is currently engaged in a more important activity."

Squinting at the screen, he nodded to himself. "I believe all the devices stored here are in a complete shut-down mode. They will not activate until someone with the ATA gene gives the power-up command. We should be safe in transporting them."

"How many do you want to bring back?" Ronon asked, finally pushing forward, his arms crossed over his large chest as he let his eyes roam around the room. He might appear casual, but Radek knew the man could kill him in several most creative ways in less than five seconds. Upsetting Ronon was not on his to-do list.

"As many as we can," he replied, half glancing over his shoulder as he tried to find the main index for the storage room. The Ancients always has redundant systems.

"That's why we brought the extra cases and packs," Sheppard answered, patting the other man on his back, standing beside him to survey the room in a similar manner.

"It's gonna take more than a few trips," Ronon commented solemnly without a hint of complaint or condemnation, more as a matter of fact.

"Colonel," Radek said a few minutes later, breaking the silence. "If you are ready, I believe I can direct you from here."

"To do what?"

"Take the objects off the shelves, of course. Preferably, in your case, without activating them."

An overly dramatic hurt expression crossed the other man's face. "Me?"

Rolling his eyes, Radek nodded as he turned to the console. "Let's start in aisle one."

***

"What part of 'no' did you not understand the first ten times I told you?" Rodney McKay asked as he stormed down the hallway, his face holding a thunderous expression. Shifting the heavy pack on his back, he waved his hand in front of the transporter door panel. He'd finished the work in the belly of the beast only to have to run clear to the end of the north pier to fix something else, quickly followed by a trip to the south pier. Was everything waiting to brake all at once?

Sighing loudly, he stepped into the small space, jabbing his finger at the transporter location closest to his quarters as the man on the other end of the conversation continued at full steam. A few seconds of transport wasn't about to make any kind of difference. Besides, Kavanaugh enjoyed listening to himself talk.

Stepping out on the other end, sure enough, the scientist hadn't shut up and Rodney hadn't missed anything important. For as long as McKay had known the man, Kavanaugh had never approached that state of silence or wisdom—nor was he likely in the near future.

Rolling his eyes, he cut into the scientist's monologue. "No matter what you think about my parentage or your supposed pedigreed genes, I'm still in charge of the science department and the answer is still 'no'. Anything that involves one of your experiments and a naquadah generator will forever be banned on Atlantis. I'm even considering banning you from using D-sized batteries. We both know what happened the last time."

The other man's voice steadily rose, claiming favoritism, despotism, and several other things Rodney tuned out. It was easier that way. Letting the man rant, McKay swung into the deserted mess hall, grabbing whatever food he could get his hands on. PowerBars for lunch, dinner, and two snacks left him craving something else. A minute later and he was headed back into the hallway and to his quarters. It was nearly 0100 and he was dead tired.

Besides, from the snippets of reports he'd heard while traipsing across Atlantis, Sheppard's team had struck pay dirt on their mission, requesting two jumpers to aid in the retrieval of Ancient equipment. Two of the marines had headed through shortly afterwards. He'd directed them to place everything in one of the science department storerooms that could be locked down.

If he was expected to start researching and sifting through the items they were bringing back, he needed more than two hours of sleep—not that he'd get more than that realistically, not with the nightmares he still had. He knew he should probably talk to Heightmeyer, maybe convince her to talk to Carson to give him something to help him sleep, but after everything, talking to someone about what was going on his head was the last thing he wanted to do.

Besides, it wasn't as if anyone really cared that he wasn't sleeping.

As he approached his quarters, Rodney could tell Kavanaugh was beginning to wind down. Another minute or two and the rant would be over.

Sure enough, just as Rodney was swinging his pack off his back and onto his desk, the scientist's words slowed down to a crawl before halting altogether. Putting his hands on his hips, Rodney waited for the silence to grow before he finally replied.

"Listen very carefully because I'm only going to say this once. If you can put together a decent proposal—taking into account any and all possibilities of success and failure—I'll consider your request. I'm going to tell you now that the only way this project of yours will get off the ground is if it's checked and double-checked by someone I approve. And even then, I'm not going to guarantee anything. Now, find someone else to pester. I'm going to bed. McKay out."

Yanking the radio from his ear, he dropped it on his desk next to his pack and stretched, his hands above his head. Eyeing his laptop, he knew he should probably check his email messages, but that could wait until later in the morning.

Stumbling across the room as he pulled clothing from his body, his shirt and jacket falling into a pile on the floor, he slumped onto his bed, dragging his feet from his boots and socks, his nose twitching at the smell. He hated the military-issue footwear, but down in the bowels of Atlantis, the thick soles were a much better insulator than his usual hikers. Besides, you never know what you might step in down there, and he'd hate to ruin his favorite shoes.

His pants came off last, joining the pile on the floor. With a sigh he fell back into his bed, sliding under the covers. Mentally he locked his door down and turned off the lights.

Tomorrow there were Ancient devices to discover.

***

Shrugging out of his dusty and dirty BDUs, John Sheppard remembered why he'd become a pilot in the first place. No heavy lifting.

Stretching carefully, he tried to get some of the cricks and cramps out of his muscles. It really wasn't hard work, carefully carrying and arranging the devices, but that much continuous bending and lifting wasn't good for anyone—and he didn't care how fit you were. That was the reason man made hand-trucks and carts and wheelbarrows. He just wished they had some of those.

They'd spent the past twelve hours trafficking Ancient artifacts to and from the base and Atlantis using two jumpers.

Radek had been in his element, yelling and shouting in various languages, some of them John didn't recognize, directing everyone—all five of the pack mules—where to go, what to do, and what, under no circumstances, not to drop.

They took him fairly seriously when one of the larger pieces nearly slipped out of Ronon's hands and Radek turned white.

Thankfully, there had been a slew of people waiting back on Atlantis to unload everything, but Radek had sent ahead strict orders—which Sheppard had asked Lorne to enforce: Absolutely nothing was to go into the science labs until McKay looked it over.

He'd been…concerned at first, but after Radek glared at him and then proceeded to jabber at him in high-speed Czech, he'd given up, letting the order stand. Once Radek got back to Atlantis he'd be at McKay's side during the initial evaluation process. Thankfully, the laptop that had the database loaded onto it had gone over in the first transport.

Hopefully, McKay would take the time to look it over before he just started turning things on. But that wasn't entirely fair, John knew. When McKay's ego wasn't in the way he was usually careful with alien technology—whatever it was. That whole self-preservation thing he had going. The stuff they found usually never worked the way they thought it did in the first place and, unfortunately, they'd learned that the hard way.

Wandering into his bathroom, he turned the shower on before he dropped all of his clothes in a pile on the floor. As the steam filled the room, he groaned as he rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension and the soreness.

The hot water felt marvelous when he finally stepped in, and with his forearms up against the wall, he leaned in, putting his head against his arms as he let the water pound against his back, loosening him up, relaxing him.

He let his mind drift, the water washing away more than just the dirt and grime and pent-up tension. As much as he wanted to just stop thinking, however, thoughts kept surfacing. Thoughts he didn't want to be thinking. Thoughts about McKay.

He didn't want to admit it, but the mission today—the first one without the physicist—had been strange, unsettling—and John didn't like that. He knew going into this that there would be some kind of settling-in period, but he hadn't thought that it would be so noticeable. He'd forgotten about everything McKay did right—from playing with his various devices to figuring out quickly how and why they worked the way they did. Zelenka had done well, very well especially since he didn't have a lot of off-world experience, but in this galaxy a scientist in the field without the ATA gene could be a liability, and a big one at that.

That was something he hadn't considered before.

Forcing himself to relax and stop thinking, he sighed and leaned into the hot water, letting it caress his shoulders, the droplets pounding into the knots in his muscles, loosening them slowly, as if his body was refusing to let go of the stress and the tension. The streams of water ran down his back and cascaded over the curve of his buttocks before hitting the floor of the shower stall and splattering against the wall before it all swirled down the drain taking the dirt, dust, sweat, and grime with it.

He stayed under the powerful showerhead until his fingers wrinkled. Drying off in the chilly bathroom, goose bumps rising on his exposed skin, John quickly pulled on his boxers and t-shirt, before leaving his wet towel on the top of his dirty clothes pile. He'd deal with it later.

But even as he dropped into bed, his mind refused to totally slow down, continually running through the events of the day. Something _had_ been missing, and the more he thought about it, the tenser he became.

He was torn.

He was still angry, very angry, with McKay for what he'd done, for the lives he'd risked—his own in addition to others—and the people he'd manipulated to get what he wanted. But then, there was a part of him that had finally realized what had been missing today: McKay's blisteringly wide grin he always wore when they found something they could use.

Today, they'd hit the mother load and he wasn't even there to brag about it.

Sighing, he rolled over, trying to find a comfortable position. He wasn't sure if it was the bed, his muscles, or his mind, but sleep was a long time in coming.

***

By the time Radek Zelenka managed to drag himself out of his bed and down to the storage rooms, it was obvious—due to the multitude of PowerBar wrappers and empty mugs—Rodney had been here for quite some time.

Did the man ever sleep?

Walking into the room, he let his eyes drift, still not believing what was in front of him. The teams, under Lorne's direction, had set up the room exactly as he'd requested, the metal shelving that had been brought from Earth ages ago finally coming in handy. The rows had been set up exactly as the hidden Ancient base, the items placed roughly where they'd been on the planet.

At least it would be a little easier when they started their examination, one less variable.

Rodney was hunched over his laptop—the same one Radek had taken to the planet yesterday—the fingers of his right hand tapping on the arrow keys while his left drummed on the edge of the desk.

"Rodney, how long have you been here?" he asked, dropping onto the empty stool next to the other man.

"Hmm? What?" Rodney glanced his way, more out of habit than anything, before turning back to the database information. Glancing over Rodney's shoulder, Radek noticed that the information was still in Ancient. Wonderful. Rodney hadn't even bothered with translation, instead jumping in with both feet. It also meant he was one of the few people who could actually read it.

"Rodney," Radek repeated once the other man settled back into silence. "What are you doing?"

"Reading, and you're interrupting."

Rolling his eyes, Zelenka shook his head. He needed more coffee to deal with this man, but he didn't think there was enough on base in order to accomplish that feat. "If you had translated the database I could help you."

"Why are you here?" With his forehead scrunching up in confusion, Rodney finally looked at him instead of through him. "I need to go through this entire database until I can even begin to start on the stuff you brought back." He waved his hand in a large arc behind him, apparently referring to the nearly full shelves. "It's going to take some time."

"That's what I was saying," Radek muttered. "If you get your head out of ass then perhaps you would hear what I am telling you."

Rodney's eyes widened, the reddened white showing around the blue. Surprisingly, though, he didn't comment. Instead, he straightened up, his hands bracing himself against the worktable.

Radek frowned. "Are you ill?"

"No. Should I be?"

"You have not attempted to tear head from shoulders. I am…concerned that you are not yourself."

Rolling his eyes, Rodney took a deep breath. When he finally replied, his words were sarcastic. "I was just doing as you so eloquently requested; listening to you."

Instead of speaking, Radek leaned back, crossing his hands over his chest as he took a good look at the man sitting beside him. If it was humanly possible, Rodney looked worse than he did twenty-seven some odd hours ago when he'd stormed out of the main lab claiming he couldn't concentrate.

Rodney's uniform was wrinkled and rumpled, the untucked shirt bunching up on his side, as if the tail was stuck in the waistband of his pants. Stubble lined his normally clean-shaven cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes were all the more pronounced due to the pallor of his face.

With a room full of Ancient devices, Rodney should be excited. Something did not add up.

Moving slightly, seemingly uncomfortable under Radek's gaze, Rodney's expression moved from arrogance to annoyance. "What?"

"What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. What's wrong with you is the better question. Since when do you sit staring at someone with that….that calculating expression on your face?" Rodney's right hand waved in his direction, the movements sharp. After a pause, his fingers clicked quickly several times and he started inching back. "Wait a minute. I know. You're…you've been infested with some kind of alien disease that makes you ask fellow colleagues strange and unusual questions before you disembowel them and leave them for dead."

If Rodney didn't seem so serious, Radek would have laughed in his face.

"No, no, no. I am fine. Whole team is fine. I am merely concerned about the health of my friend who is also one of the biggest hypochondriacs in the Pegasus Galaxy, not to mention the one with the most active and pessimistic imagination." He paused, taking a deep breath before the other man could move too far away. Although, knowing what was in this room, it was going to be next to near impossible to pry Rodney away in the next few days. "Look," he began, pushing his glasses to the proper placement on the bridge of his nose. "This is not a small project and I hate to admit, but you are the best person to make initial examination of the Ancient devices. It is not a weakness to ask for help from a fellow scientist and friend if you are…worn out from other projects."

Rodney's slumped shoulders straightened. His voice was tense, clipped. "I'm fine."

"So, I should just leave you alone so you can work yourself until you drop from exhaustion?"

"I said I'm fine. If you want to help, help, and stop interrogating me about everything." Rodney turned back to the laptop, his hands reaching for the keys to continue his reading. "But you might as well go and do something else since I'm not going to even begin to look at anything until I go through this database."

"That'll take hours, if not days."

"It'll take what it takes."

"The science department will riot."

Rodney shrugged. "Isn't the first time, won't be the last. They'll learn to deal with disappointment. I certainly have."

Unsure how to respond, Radek kept his mouth closed. He watched his friend for several more minutes before he slid off the stool, moving quietly to the door. Rodney's voice made him pause just before he stepped into the hallway.

"As soon as I'm done I'll let you know."

Radek nodded, but Rodney was intent on the screen, never glancing up. His comment was the only kind of request for assistance Rodney would offer. Radek wasn't going to say no. "I will keep staff in line. However, I expect many bribes to win back my favor."

A quiet chuckle followed him into the corridor.

***

Carson Beckett glanced up from the PDA in his hands as one his nurses, Shelly Laurence, wandered past. The infirmary was quiet, thank goodness, so they'd been catching up on inventory. After everything that happened, he knew he needed to restock some items, but until he knew exactly what he had on hand, he was hesitant to place a request for supplies. For some reason, he didn't want 50,000 tongue depressors cluttering up his supplies closet. Unless he wanted to build something, they didn't do much good in large quantities.

Offering a smile and greeting, his expression quickly turned to a frown. "Shelly, are ye feeling all right?"

She paused, wiping her hand over her weary and pale face, pushing a few strands of her straight blond hair behind her ears. It looked like there was a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead, catching a few of the fine hairs, making them stick to her skin. "Fine," she replied quickly. "Haven't been sleeping well, and it looks like it's finally catching up with me. I was actually thinking about asking you if it was okay for me to go and grab a nap since we're just doing inventory."

Placing his PDA on the shelf, he turned to her moving closer. She stepped back a few feet under his scrutiny.

"I'm fine, Doctor Beckett. Just a little tired."

He placed a hand on her elbow and ushered her into the main part of the infirmary. "Let me be the judge of that," he said, helping her climb up on the nearest bed, her legs hanging over the side, swinging slightly. He moved efficiently around the area, grabbing the few things he needed. There was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach he was trying to ignore, but as he began his examination, the feeling continued to grow.

"How long have you been feeling tired?" he asked, noting her elevated temperature on the page he'd pulled out. He'd add it to her file when he was done.

She shrugged with one shoulder, the other one held captive by Carson's blood pressure cuff. "A day or so. It's nothing, really."

"So an elevated temp and a low pressure is nothing?" he asked, the sound of the releasing Velcro loud in the large room.

At least she looked abashed, he thought, scribbling more notes. Her glands were a little swollen, she was experiencing general muscle weakness, and it seemed she was dehydrated.

"You been drinking enough water? Eating normally?"

Shelly sighed. "No and no."

He raised an eyebrow, giving her a disapproving look. "My nurses, of all people, should know how to take care of themselves."

"I haven't been hungry and my stomach's been off."

"Off?" he asked, his pen poised above her chart, fearing the answer to his next question. "Any vomiting?"

Shelly glanced away, letting out a long breath. "Not until this morning."

"Mo chreach," he said, the curse slipping out under his breath.

"What?"

Carson looked up, the muscles in his back tightening. "I think you may have caught what the Athosians have."

Her eyes widened. "But how? It's been a week, more than a week. This is just a cold."

"It must be from one of our patients on the mainland," he replied, rubbing a hand across his face. "And it looks like it has an incubation period of about a week and a half. Love, why don't you make yourself comfortable? It appears like you're gonna be my guest for a little while."

***

Running his finger down the list on the screen, Rodney McKay paused at a few entries, matching what he saw with his eyes with what he'd stored in his memory. No. That wasn't it.

He kept going, one eye on the list, the other on the open door. He'd had several visitors this morning, all scientists wanting to take a look at what Zelenka brought back. He was actually waiting for Elizabeth or Sheppard to show up. The last scientist who poked his neck in had nearly gotten his head loped off—verbally of course. Was it his fault the man was more "sensitive" than others?

They really needed to send people with thicker skins. He had no use for the crybabies. He was sure Brady had gone running to mom. At least, that's what he'd done the last three times something like this happened.

He knew it was in here. It had to be. If it wasn't he was royally screwed.

He kept looking.

On the eighteenth page of listings he found it. A one line entry. Small. Insignificant if you didn't know what you were looking for.

Tapping his finger against the screen, he rose quickly, his momentum taking him forward before his feet could catch up. Stumbling slightly, he caught himself on the edge of a shelf.

Maneuvering around the end of one shelving unit and the two stools, he moved deeper into the room, his eyes searching the hand-written notes along the way, marking each section with its appropriate Ancient designation. He was glad whoever put this stuff away could at least make a passable copy of the Ancient scrawl.

He stopped when he finally found the reference number, his hands already pulling the device from its place. Ripping the piece of paper from the edge, he tucked it into a pocket, yanking the remains of the double-sided tape from the metal, flicking it off of his fingers and onto the floor.

Quickly, quietly, he moved back toward the front of the room, pausing at the end of the aisle, looking to make sure he was still alone. Silence greeted him and he grunted, moving back to the computer and his pack, where he secured the small device, pulling the top closed.

He dropped onto the stool, his heart racing. He had it. Now, he just needed to figure out how to get it to work. Time was something he had in spades.

***

"Carson, I thought you said it wasn't contagious," Elizabeth Weir said, trying to keep her voice level and calm, even though she felt like this might be a good time to panic. A disease or virus that the Pegasus Galaxy inhabitants are having severe issues with had now infected Atlantis personnel with an outcome even her head doctor couldn't determine.

Wringing his hands a little, his face displayed much of the emotions that were running through him—concern, worry, chagrin, frustration. "I didn't think it would be, but of the four of us who went to the mainland, she's the only one feeling any ill effects."

"Nurse Matthews?"

"Is in the infirmary under Doctor Biro's watchful eye, but she's as fit as a fiddle."

"And you?"

He shrugged, his lab coat-covered shoulders slumping a little more. "Tired, but no more than usual. Have you heard from Major Lorne yet?"

Weir glanced down at her tightly clasped hands. "No. He's due to return in about an hour. Do you think it will make a difference either way?"

"No," he said, shaking his head wearily. "If he followed Shelly's symptoms, he would have been feeling it yesterday or earlier this morning. In any case, if he has it then he's probably already given it to the rest of his team."

Weir could feel her eyes widening at Beckett's words. "Shouldn't you be…" she trailed off as a frown formed on his face.

"At this point, it's in the air, Elizabeth. I'm hoping the environmental systems can scrub out the particles, but I've been in touch with…nearly everyone in the past week. I don't know when we would have been contagious, exactly, but I imagine the damage is already done. The decontamination procedure was just to make sure that we didn't bring anymore of it back with us."

"What's your plan?"

He sighed, pursing his lips a bit before he spoke. "I’m keeping Shelly under observation so I can better understand the stages and see how it affects us, as opposed to the Athosians. I'm also going to have Doctor Biro closely monitor Anne, Major Lorne, and myself."

"Good," she said, nodding to herself. "Doctor Biro's a good choice."

"In case I do become incapacitated, I wanted to have someone else involved from the very beginning since I probably have a week's head start. But there's no telling who will come down with this virus, disease…" he sighed. "We're not even sure what it is exactly."

"Well, then I think you should get back to work," she replied, as Carson moved to her door. "I'll have Lorne's team report directly to you once they're back. I'm also going to recall all of the other off-world teams."

"Good idea, but honestly," he said, pausing, "I don't think there's a big hurry. They're either already infected, immune, or they'll catch it when they gate home. They might as well finish their missions."

"What about the other people they might encounter?"

Carson shrugged. "I think this is native to this galaxy so there's a very good possibility that we might have gotten it from one of the people we met. We should check all of the off-world logs going back the past month or so. We need to find out how the Athosians got it in the first place."

"I'll get a team started on that." Elizabeth caught Carson's eyes, and nodded slightly, giving him a light smile. "You'll figure it out, you always do."

"I hope yer right."

***

"Rodney, this is Weir, come in."

Releasing a deep breath as he straightened in his chair, pausing the scroll of the Ancient database on the laptop, he answered the call, not bothering to hide his irritation. "What?"

In the pregnant pause of silence that followed his remark, he could picture her expression, her eyebrow raised in surprise and the look of annoyance flooding her features. "I have some questions about the environmental systems."

"Can it wait? I'm trying to go through everything Zelenka's team brought back."

"If I thought it could wait I wouldn't have commed you," she responded, the tone of her voice hard.

He sighed. "Look. I'm serious when I said I'm busy, but Dave Nelson's overseeing any projects involving the environmental systems. He should be able to help you, unless of course you need me to completely rebuild something. Then, yes, you were right to call me."

"I have some concerns about the system transporting contagions."

"Contagions? Are you talking about an airborne plague? Did Sheppard bring something back with him? Am I going to die because I've been sitting in this room for twelve hours?"

"Doctor McKay, slow down," she ordered, stopping his incessant questions. "Doctor Beckett is concerned that a particular virus the Athosians have may have infected some Atlantis personnel. I was concerned that it may have the ability to spread through the environmental systems."

"Actually," Rodney said, his mind already moving, leaping ahead, "depending on what it is, it may be able to be transported through the system. Some things are filtered out, yes, but a virus might be able to get through. Of course, if it was something the Ancients knew about, the system might be able to recognize it and eliminate it as a threat, but if it's new, or a mutated version of something else…I don't know. Check with Nelson. He might have some thoughts."

"Thank you. That's what I needed to know. Weir out."

Shaking his head at her abrupt sign off, he stretched a little, his muscles aching from hunching over the computer for so long. A little more time and he will have made a first pass at the database, then he could start on a closer examination of some of the devices themselves. He'd need to get Radek down here, and maybe Kusangi. At least she had the gene.

As he delved back in, he focused quickly on what he was reading, all thoughts about contagions and environmental systems fading to the back of his mind until they were totally forgotten.

***

The three off-world teams all decided to come back within ten minutes of each other. Although, it might have had to do with the order he'd given about an hour ago.

John Sheppard stood at the balcony overlooking the gateroom as the last team stepped through, depositing their finds in the pile at the side of the room where several of the science geeks were standing, visibly drooling at the Ancient technology currently on display.

Catching Elizabeth's eye, she nodded and he turned, moving swiftly, his booted feet barely making a sound as he descended, the three teams all standing in a ragged group, clustered around the base of the stairs.

"Sir," Lorne said, stepping forward. "What's going on?"

John didn't answer immediately, his gaze moving through the room, pausing on each person standing before him, noting the worry, the concern, the boredom, the fear. He turned his attention back to Lorne, asking his own question, his voice soft, but tinted with a hard edge; the kind he got when he knew something was going wrong and he could do nothing about it. "Missions went well?"

Several nods answered his question, but each team leader stepped forward. Majors George Doyle and Doug Watson—the two teams who had to come back early—reported quickly, efficiently, evidently noting Sheppard's demeanor. Good missions. They'd found a small storage area and had brought back as many items as they could carry. Additional missions were recommended.

Lorne, had moved to the side, his head tilted as he listened to the reports, watching everyone carefully, most especially John.

"Okay. I need everyone to report to the infirmary ASAP. Lorne, if you'll stay for a moment?" At the Major's nod, he continued, "Good work, everyone. You're dismissed."

Twenty-two booted feet clattered into the hallway as John strolled toward his second-in-command who hadn't moved from where he was leaning.

"We might have a problem," John began.

Lorne nodded. "Guessed as much."

"It seems the illness spreading among the Athosians has made it here."

"Beckett?"

John shook his head. "One of the nurses, Shelly Laurence."

"The blonde, right?" he asked, his frown deepening at Sheppard's nod. "She was with us on the initial trip. I still don't know everyone on the civilian side of things. There's more of them than you think."

"It takes time, I know," he said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Beckett's worried it may have spread during the past week, but he's not sure how. Nelson is checking the environmental systems."

"So, why don't I feel sick?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Beckett's fine, as is Nurse Matthews."

"And he thought I was the canary."

"The what?" A raised eyebrow accompanied his question.

"Miners used canaries as the first sign of toxicity. Beckett told me I was his 'yellow canary' when we were on the mainland the second time. Seems like the job fell to Shelly." Lorne paused, his face grim. "If what the Athosians told me is any indication, we might have a big problem."

Sheppard gestured for Lorne to follow him up the stairs. The Major had to report into Weir about the mission. He might as well do it now before he headed to the infirmary. From what Beckett had told them, it was pointless to try and isolate those they suspected were infected. At this point, it probably would have been nearly the entire base.

"What do you mean?"

Lorne matched his pace and stride, walking companionably beside him. "There was talk—nothing specific, nothing that I can point to. I'm sure Beckett already shared this with you, but this illness was new to the Athosians and in some of the outer villages may have been deadly."

"Yeah, Beckett said as much," Sheppard confirmed.

Lorne glanced at him, his eyes wide, confusion on his face. "So, what exactly are we doing about it?"

"Beckett's working on it."

"That's it?"

"That's it. What else do you think we can do?" Sheppard asked, some of the frustration and anger bleeding into his voice. "Until they can figure out what it is and what we can expect, there's not much more for us to do but sit back and wait to get sick."

Lorne scowled. "Now there's a pleasant thought."

***

Radek Zelenka muttered under his breath as Leiko Kusangi and Rodney argued. They'd been at it, on and off, for the past two hours.

He was of half a mind to throw up his hands and walk out and let them kill each other, but he thought there might be some…issues with that decision. First and foremost, he did not want Rodney's job. Secondly, he knew the Marine Kusangi was dating. He was big.

Instead, he sat and waited for one of them to take a breath so he could calm them down once again, try to talk sense into their thick skulls. Building a ZPM from scratch with no directions seemed like a far easier task to accomplish.

"Do you even listen to yourself?" Rodney was asking, his hands waving widely as his face reddened, the vein on his temple bulging a little. "Do you even have a degree, let along a science degree? I swear the only way you could even remotely think that was a good idea is if you have some kind of mental deficiency."

"You said for yourself that they had all been deactivated," Kusangi replied, her voice equally irate. She was the exact opposite of McKay's assistant Miko and sometimes Radek wondered how such diversity could occur between two women who could trace their family roots to the same exact village in a remote area. Apparently, upbringing and environment played a great deal in human development, but that subject was completely outside his own area of understanding. "We need to have the science department examining them to see if we can figure out what they did then reverse engineer them. The only way that's going to happen is if you actually let us do our jobs and stop hogging all the high-profile projects for yourself."

Radek nearly jumped in as Rodney's eyes widened dramatically his mouth hanging open for a few seconds. His reply, though, came soon enough. "Hogging! You think I enjoy working all hours of the day and night—"

"Obviously you enjoy playing the part of the martyr—"

"I’m just trying to do my job," he replied, his voice tight. "But if the majority of the science department wasn't idiots I might be able to delegate some of those so-called 'high-profile projects' without the fear of them blowing up in our collective faces."

Kusangi's voice dropped, her eyes narrowing. "Then if you can't trust us, why are we here? You were the one who made the final selection of science personnel. So what does that say about your judgment?"

Rodney stared at her for several beats, his jaw tight, the vein in his temple visibly throbbing, before he turned away. "Radek, pull up the list. Let's get some of these devices into the hands of the science teams. We're getting nowhere down here."

Swiveling in his chair, Radek turned back to the laptop and quickly brought the master list up. Rodney leaned over his shoulder, pointing to several items on the first page. "Let's start with these."

Radek nodded, glancing to his side toward Kusangi, catching her self-satisfied smirk. She was just as bad as Rodney. "Who gets these?" he asked, turning his attention back to the physicist hovering over his shoulder.

"I made some arrangements earlier," he replied, stepping closer to the workbench, moving the second laptop so Radek could see the screen. "It was my initial intention to have these go out sometime next week to the staff, but it seems like I may be a little too cautious in my evaluation of current workloads. I set it up with two people per team. Let's start at the top."

As Radek called out the identification numbers, Kusangi pulled them from the shelves, tagging each item with the appropriate name. Rodney recorded it on his sheets and called the respective scientist to report to the storage room.

It would take a while to get everything examined, but at least everyone would get to play a part in the discovery.

***

The next few days passed in a blur.

Carson Beckett had put the medical staff on high alert, everyone working long shifts to figure out what they were dealing with. From the reports she got twice a day, there was still a lot they didn't know, that they were guessing at. Nurse Lawrence's health was rapidly declining and a handful of others suffering similar symptoms had surfaced within the last two days.

One, thankfully, was not related to the illness, but that still left the medical staff with five patients—and with a number that would be growing.

Lorne, Matthews, and Carson, however, were symptom-free—so far. The only common denominator: they all had the ATA gene, whereas everyone else who contracted the disease did not have it.

But why hadn't this illness spread like wildfire through the Athosian population? There was something else, another factor at play. It was just a matter of finding it.

And that needed to happen sooner, rather than later. Especially after the report from the mainland this morning. Two of Beckett's Athosian patients—young men who had been in relatively good health prior to this—had died during the night.

Given the progress of the disease, Carson was estimating that they had about two weeks before it ran its full course. But would that be enough time to find a cure?

Weir had several techs going through the gate logs, trying to find out where this illness might have originated. There had been several Athosians off-world in the past few months. It was a matter of tracking everything down. But that also took time.

The science department, though, seemed completely oblivious to everything else going on. Like the medical department, they were working round the clock. The daily reports from Rodney about their progress with the Ancient devices were encouraging. Several were simple: timers for larger time-delayed devices, sensor relays, and shock grenades—much like what the Goa'uld used. It was still strange to see technology—Ancient technology—that was so clearly identified with the Goa'uld. Intellectually she knew that they were scavengers, using the technology they discovered, but it always gave her a start when she looked at something Ancient and instinctively thought Goa'uld.

It seemed everything they'd collected were pieces to much larger devices, mainly weapons. She could imagine John's reaction to the reports. If things had been different, he would probably have taken up residence in the labs alongside McKay.

But, that wasn't about to happen anytime soon, if she was any good at reading Sheppard's body language. He was still angry, not as intensely or all consuming as it had been, but under the surface it still burned. She wondered if it would ever completely go away.

"Ma'am?"

She glanced up, surprised by the interruption. It was late, way past time for her to be in bed. With everything going on, she'd been having problems falling asleep, so she'd decided to read a few more reports before attempting to catch a little shuteye.

"Yes, Brian? What is it?"

The gate technician smiled apologetically as he presses his headset closer to his ear. "I'm getting reports of an explosion."

She found herself on her feet, her chair pushed back away from her desk, without realizing when she'd stood up. "Where?"

"One of the science wings. Atlantis responded by closing down the section. Teams are already on the way."

She moved around her desk, walking beside Whitmore into the control room. "Do we know who was in there?"

"No. Communication within the affected labs is intermittent."

"Rodney will know who's in there." She pressed the call button on her comm. "Doctor McKay, come in please, this is Weir."

"Ma'am," Whitmore said, his hand on her arm, his face a mix of emotions. "Doctor McKay is one of the people I can't reach."

***

John Sheppard pounded down the hallway, dodging a few dirty and staggering scientists, the smoke getting thicker the closer he got to the source of the explosion. Thankfully, they were in one of the more unused sections of Atlantis—or at least unused until this week when it had been commandeered for any and all research involving the Ancient devices they'd uncovered.

McKay hadn't wanted the items in the main labs. It seemed he'd had good reason.

Ronon appeared at one of the intersections, pausing only long enough to set his pace next to Sheppard as they continued down the hall. It looked like the Satedan had pulled on whatever clothing was handy after John's hasty late-night summons. "What happened?"

"Explosion in the labs. No one can get hold of McKay."

The other man grunted in surprise. "He was in there?"

John shrugged, side-stepping around a medic who was bent over one of the scientists—Simpson, from the looks of it. "Hold up a sec," he said, moving back a few paces before dropping down to one knee beside the woman. She was half-covered in dirt and grime—soot maybe—her blue eyes a little glazed, her normally perfectly preened and arranged brown hair hanging limply around her face, the stringy ends sticking to the sweat on her neck and face.

"Doctor Simpson, what happened?"

She glanced up, squinting in the half-light of the hallway, but didn't move otherwise, allowing the doctor to treat her injuries, including a gash on her right forearm. "We were working on some of the devices we'd brought up from the storage room, had been for most of the day."

"Who's 'we'?"

"The science staff…more or less everyone who wasn't already busy with another project."

"How about McKay and Zelenka?" John could feel Ronon standing behind him, impatience radiating off the warrior in ever-increasing waves. He was a man of action and this, to him, was a waste. Glancing up quickly, John indicated with a wave of his hand for the Satedan to continue on without him. A sharp nod and Ronon was gone, the barest swoosh of fabric indicating his departure.

Simpson nodded in answer to his question, wincing as the movement jostled her arm. "They were overseeing the teams; Zelenka, McKay, and Kusangi. I was helping them out the best I could."

"You weren't working on anything specific?"

"No," she hissed, trying to pull her limb from the medic as he tried to clean the wound. "They kept asking questions, interrupting them. Zelenka thought it would be easier if the three of them were floaters in the lab. Less aggravation."

John nodded, agreeing with their actions. Glancing down the hall, he saw a good portion of the science staff littering the corridor, everyone with various injuries. From the looks of it, mostly minor.

Another group of medics hurried past, a grim-faced Carson in the lead, loaded down with medical supplies.

"So what happened?"

"Not sure. Brady called McKay over to look at something. Zelenka was down the hall, I think, with Swartson. Miko was there too somewhere, but I’m not sure who she was helping. She might have been with McKay. The next thing I hear is McKay ordering everyone out. Something about power spikes. But none of the devices were active. Most of them weren't even complete."

"You left?"

She nodded, wincing as her arm was wrapped in gauze. "With that tone, I wasn't going to argue."

"Tone?"

"Surprise. Panic." She shrugged. "His usual 'oh shit' reflex."

"How many scientists were in the labs?"

"This late…maybe twenty, twenty-five. I'd been helping Jones for a while and I hadn't gotten the chance to do a walk through in about an hour."

"You're all done, doc," the medic said, interrupting. "You should still report to the infirmary for a full check-up."

"I will," she replied, offering a quick smile of thanks to the man as he moved to the next patient.

"Which lab were McKay and Brady in?"

"One of the first ones off the main room, to the left I think." She paused, her eyes finally wandering around the corridor, taking in the smoke and the groans of pain and controlled panic as the teams tried to ascertain the damage. "Is everyone okay?"

"We're trying to find that out," John replied, helping Simpson to her feet and steadying her when she swayed. "You should probably go to the infirmary. Do you need help getting there?"

She shook her head. "I can wait."

"Doc—"

"No," she said, cutting off his comment. "I need to see what happened."

Gesturing to one of his men, John nodded to Simpson. "Fine. Captain Andrews here will stay with you and make sure you get to the infirmary when you're ready to go. Okay?"

She nodded. "Thanks."

John smiled briefly, tightly. "I have to go. Andrews, you know what to do."

"Yes, sir."

Turning, John moved down the corridor, trying not to inhale the smoke the environmental systems were trying to clear out. Something was still burning in the labs—a cross between wires, electronics, paper, and something else. That last part was something he'd recognize anywhere.

He clamped down on his fears, his worries. There was time for that later, once everything was cataloged and cleaned up and the dead were carried away.

"Colonel!"

He saw a figure walking toward him, hair even more askew than normal, his glasses bearing several smears of grime. Overall, though, he was one of the cleaner scientists in the area. Simpson was right. He'd been down the hall when this happened. "Zelenka?"

"Colonel, you must help me. I cannot find Rodney."

***

Teyla maneuvered through the congested hallway, passing many injured and ailing Atlanteans. She'd spotted Sheppard speaking with one of them, kneeling beside her as her wounds were bound.

She continued on, moving closer to the center of the destruction, trying not to get in the way, but it was hard. The explosion had taken out the main power in this section, leaving them only with emergency lighting, making the corridor even more treacherous.

Carson was setting up a single field station adjacent to the main door to the lab where several scientists—some of them injured and bleeding—worked alongside Major Lorne's team, trying to get the doors to open.

"Doctor," she called, moving to his side. "Where are Doctor McKay and Ronon? I do not see either of them."

He glanced up, pausing long enough to answer her question, his bloodshot eyes weary. She knew he had been busy studying the illness that had struck her people as well as his own. This had come at a most inopportune time—not that accidents in the science labs were ever opportune. "Ronon's with the other team tryin' ta get in. There's another entrance through some of the smaller labs. They're hoping ta get past the lockdown."

"Lockdown?" Her gaze scanned the corridor, the smoke slowly lifting, the smell unpleasant.

"Atlantis automatically reacts when something like this happens," Sheppard said, obviously catching her question as he appeared at her side. "It tries to contain the damage to one section, or a series of sections. Since it seems some of the scientists got out, the lockdown might have been progressive, letting people leave before locking up behind them."

"Aye, but that also means we canna get in."

"We're trying, Doc," Sheppard said, his face hard as he watched Lorne's team working on the doors.

Ronon's voice called out over the comm. "Sheppard?"

"Here," he replied, clicking his radio to transmit. "What is it?"

"We're about through. You might want to be here. It smells bad."

Sheppard's face twitched slightly, the only outward sign that this was affecting him. "Understood. I'll be right there." He turned toward them. "Carson, Teyla, you're with me."

She nodded, the doctor echoing her gesture, as they silently followed the Colonel down the hallway, grabbing equipment along the way.

When they reached the second group, Sheppard immediately moved toward the front, the strange equipment in his hands. She leaned over to the doctor, confused. "What is Colonel Sheppard doing?"

"He has the fire extinguisher ready, just in case."

"In case of what?"

"Don't you smell it?"

She turned to him, seeing the resignation in his eyes. "Smell what?"

"I'm surprised you can't pick it out. Maybe I've been around too many fires."

"Doctor Beckett, your words are troubling. What are you attempting to tell me?"

He sighed, looking away. "The scent that's turning your stomach, love, only comes from one thing. Burnt flesh."

***

The smell was stronger once the doors to the lab opened—much stronger. Two scientists were inside that first room, huddled in the corner, bruised and battered but alive.

Carson Beckett had quickly gotten to work, Teyla at his side as his assistant while the rest of his staff treated the wounded out in the corridor. His hands moved instinctively, cleaning and binding the wounds, speaking consolingly, comforting them as he helped them work through the pain before the meds could kick in.

But even as he worked, he was listening to the conversations around him.

There was another locked door, another obstacle. Sheppard had sent Radek to the control room to try to unlock the doors from the main system since none of the panels were giving them access.

There had to be a better way to do this. It was taking too long, much too long.

Lieutenant Clark helped move the scientists when he was done, walking them slowly into the hall where stretches waited to take them to the infirmary.

A cry of surprise rose up from the group at the door and Carson glanced up. There was an opening, he could see into the next lab.

"Good job, Radek," Sheppard said, even as two of the marines forced the door the rest of the way open, finally giving them access to the area. They moved through quickly, silently, the destruction getting more substantial the closer they got to the main section of the lab, to where they thought Rodney and Doctor Brady had been.

"Sheppard," Carson whispered, the lone word enough to get the Colonel to pause, to glance over his shoulder allowing Beckett to see the stern soldier mask that had been slipped onto his face.

The other man must have seen something on his face that made him stop, only speaking when Carson was beside him, the words hissed through clenched teeth. "Stop it. Stop thinking that. They're going to be fine."

"You don't know that, Colonel," he replied, knowing finally what Sheppard had seen. It was the same expression he saw on the others with them—horror and resignation that they were far too late to make a difference.

"I have to believe that otherwise we're doing this for nothing. Every person is important on this base and I'll do everything in my power to make sure they can live another day. You understand?"

Carson nodded, not sure what other response to give. But he could see as well as anyone else. How could someone survive this?

They continued on, side-stepping around debris that had been thrown from the blast. As they moved closer, some equipment was still smoldering but a quick burst from the extinguisher solved that problem.

It wasn't until they reached the main lab that they found the bodies.

Two of them.

"Oh dear, God," Carson muttered, his heart dropping. This couldn't be happening.

Weir's voice across the communications system nearly made him jump out of his skin. "Sheppard, come in. This is Weir."

John tapped his headset, his eyes refusing to look away from the carnage. "Go ahead," he said, pausing to listen to Elizabeth. Since he couldn't hear her side of the conversation any more, he assumed they'd gone on a private channel once he picked up the call.

"We're in the lab now. Were you able to get a final count? Radek was supposed to give you that information."

Carson moved slowly, trying to avoid the worst spots in the room where jagged metal poked out from under blackened debris.

"He's not sure? I need to know how many I'm looking for Elizabeth. Two is a much smaller number than five."

Finding a spot to kneel, he eased himself down, gently laying his pack beside him as if the small noises he made could wake the men lying before him. He closed his eyes, trying to get his emotions under control, but the image was burned into his mind.

"I understand. Sheppard out."

Glancing up, Carson caught John's gaze seeing the possibility of hope within.

"Zelenka says that there are five scientists missing. We have two here, so we're looking for three more. Get moving people. Time is not on our side tonight."

In between breaths, the rescue team moved out—carefully, cautiously. John, however, was standing in front of one of the still closed doors.

Carson watched as Sheppard turned his radio back on. "Doctor Z, I need you to open another door for me."

Whatever the answer, it was clear the other man didn't like it. "No, I don't care that the main systems are having heart palpitations as you try to re-route everything. I want you to do one thing: get the damn door open."

Standing, Beckett reached down and grabbed his bag, moving around the two bodies at his feet. It must have been in the way he was holding himself, but Carson knew that John knew something—or at least had a supposition.

"Colonel?" Carson asked, having the intense look Sheppard had on the door turned toward him.

"Doctor Kusangi said Brady and McKay were working in one of the smaller rooms off the main lab, but it's obvious the explosion happened in here, not in there," he replied quietly, evenly, his hand gesturing between the room they were in and the other one beyond the locked door.

"So, they moved the device?"

"Maybe," Sheppard replied, his voice thoughtful as he obviously tried to work through what happened. Trying to get into the mind of one loud, obnoxious, and over-bearing physicist in particular was a job Carson wouldn't wish on anyone. If what he could see on the outside was any indication, the inside of Rodney's mind was something altogether too frightening to even consider, let alone examine.

Sheppard narrowed his eyes at the door, but Carson doubted he was even seeing what was in front of him. "McKay would want to try and contain the blast. It would make sense that he would have tried to leave the device in the smaller room, closing and locking the door as he got himself and the scientists out of the labs. Rodney's sense of self-preservation always kicks in."

"True, but that's not what happened."

"Unless someone else thought it might be a good idea to move it somewhere else, maybe somewhere it would do less harm." Sheppard paused, his face firmly set in a puzzled expression. "I wonder what that room backs up to."

"You could ask Zelenka."

Sheppard nodded and pressed the call button again. This time Carson heard John through his headset echoing what he was saying as he stood beside him. "Sheppard to Zelenka."

The replying deep sigh nearly made Carson laugh. "You want doors open or not? If so, you should stop bothering the scientists who are working."

"What does this lab back up to?"

"What?"

"The small lab that you're trying to get me into. What's behind it?"

"Nothing of consequence. Large empty space that no one is using for anything. Why?"

Sheppard's forehead creased in confusion. "Then why did they move the device into the main lab? Wouldn't it make more sense to try to contain it in a smaller location?"

"Yes, but since when is commonsense a requirement for science? Hold while I bring up the schematics for that section."

The Colonel raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting a little before his gaze transferred to the lab and the teams that had spread out, covering all areas.

Ronon plodded back into the main lab a few seconds later. "One more body over here."

Sheppard nodded, acknowledging the warrior's report. Three dead, two more to go.

"Colonel," Zelenka said, pulling their attention back to the locked door. "It seems you were correct. Some of Atlantis' major systems are connected though the rear wall of that lab. Perhaps Rodney knew?"

"Systems? Which ones?"

"Power, for one. Environmental also. All primary."

"Damn. He had to have known."

"Yes, Colonel, and you should have access to door in a few more seconds."

Sure enough, the panels parted before them, opening several inches before stopping. Pulling out his flashlight, he aimed it inside, the light stopping on a set of booted feet.

"Someone's in here. Give me a hand, Doc," he said, his flashlight tucked in his tactical vest, already pulling and yanking at the door. Dropping his case, Carson leaned into it, tugging to open the door enough to let them enter. Slowly, they parted.

"Go, Doc. I'll get Ronon to help get them open all the way."

Nodding, Carson picked up his case and squeezed through the opening, the emergency lighting barely giving him enough illumination to see. Rounding the workbench, he stopped suddenly, stifling an urge to laugh.

For all intents and purposes it looked like he was interrupting an interlude between Rodney and Miko, one of McKay's scientists—at least until you looked closely and you took a deep breath, catching the coppery smell of blood. Rodney was on top, most of his body covering the smaller woman. Several large gashes adorned his back, the blood darkening his shirt and jacket.

"Doc?" Sheppard must have seen him pause.

"I have two in here, Colonel. Rodney and Miko."

"And that makes five," Sheppard said as Carson knelt beside them, his hands reaching out to check for vitals. Neither scientist responded to his touch, but their pulses were strong—although Rodney's was a little thready and faster than he'd like.

"I need more light," he called out as he opened his bag, his eyes drifting to the dark puddle on the floor and the blood on Rodney's face. Miko had a cut on her temple, but he wouldn't know more until he could move McKay. "And I need cervical collars and two backboards."

"The medics are already on their way," Sheppard reported a beat later, his voice much closer than it had been a moment ago, light now shining directly on his patients. Glancing over his shoulder, he discovered John only a few feet away, squatting down beside him, his eyes intent on the two scientists.

"You called them in?"

John shook his head, his expression closed off, his gaze not altering. "They were on their way already. They figured if we found anyone we were going to need a little help."

Carson nodded and proceeded to clean the cuts he could reach. He pulled several shards of metal from Rodney's back, dropping them into a small container Sheppard was holding for him. A muttered curse and a loud bang indicated the arrival of the medics a few minutes later.

Anne Matthews poked her head into the room, her face pale and pinched, strands of her brown hair hanging loose, having slipped free from her clip. "Doctor Beckett, where do you want this?"

Flashing a thankful smile, he turned back to what he was doing. He needed to get these wounds cleaned as best he could before he moved Rodney. "Bring the collars and the backboards in here. I'm going to need them sooner rather than later."

Five minutes later, after much straining and careful maneuvering, Rodney was strapped to the first board and headed to the infirmary. Miko was only a few minutes behind him. Neither had regained consciousness.

Now the real work began.

***

With environmental systems back online and the lights up to full power it was easier to clean up the mess. However, it also meant that they could finally see the extent of the damage.

John was glad he didn't have to try to explain _this_ to the landlord. And Elizabeth wasn't going to be happy either.

All the injured, bruised, battered, and smoke inhaled scientists finally had been transported to the infirmary a few hours ago. The three bodies had finally been removed and sent to the morgue where Doctor Biro would complete the autopsies—even though they pretty much knew what killed them.

In the meantime, John had arranged several clean-up details consisting of both scientists and military personnel to sort through the wreckage, saving what they could and trashing the rest. As Ancient devices were uncovered, they were cataloged and set aside. They would need careful examination in a protected environment before anyone would get to look at them again.

Radek waded in as soon as he'd turned up about an hour ago, ignoring Sheppard's order to report to the infirmary. He was fine, he claimed, even though it looked like he was about ready to drop. Right now he was muttering to himself in Czech and scowling heavily.

Sheppard stepped up alongside, wiping his hands on his pants leg, blending additional dirt into the fabric. "Doctor Z," he said keeping his tone light and conversational. He wasn't in the mood to deal with spooked scientists. "You okay?"

Zelenka glanced up, the scowl deepening before he relaxed a little, slumping against the workbench. "Tired. Worried. This should not have happened."

John resisted the quip running through his mind that referenced a famous fictional English detective. "No, it shouldn't have." But even as he tried to keep his temper under control, there was a part of him that was very angry and upset. Three people were dead because of these stupid devices, with two more seriously injured, not including the twenty other scientists who'd been involved. As he continued, he knew his own frustration and worry tinted his tone more toward irate, but he didn't care.

"What was McKay thinking? I thought everything was deactivated. Are there any more we have to worry about? We have a storage room full of stuff."

Radek looked at him steadily for several moments and John thought that he might not respond at all. He'd opened his mouth to say something else—what, he didn't know—but the scientist finally spoke, the words pitched so they wouldn't travel further than John's ears.

"As much as we wished things were different, as much as we rely on exact figures and measurements, science is as much an art as anything else. Here, though, every decision we make—even small ones—can have disastrous consequences. Today is not a proud moment for any of us." Radek's gaze shifted from his fingers to the top of the worktable, refusing to lift his head. "Yes, we are arrogant, demanding, but it is because if we are not you may see just how terrified we are and then you might lose the small sliver of hope we have given you."

Finally, he glanced up, his face showing everything. John nearly took a step back from the intensity of the emotion, the starkness he saw on Zelenka's bare face. "I think I shall report to the infirmary. If you require my assistance, you can find me there until Doctor Beckett removes me."

Pushing himself away from the table, the Czech moved away, his shoulders even more rounded than when he'd walked in and surveyed the damage for the first time. Watching him step through the debris until he was out of sight, John finally turned, his gaze raking over the rest of the room, his hands on his hips.

What was next? At this point, he wasn't sure anymore.

***

Elizabeth Weir moved through the nearly silent halls of Atlantis, the reduced lighting only emphasizing her own dark thoughts. It was nearly 0200 and most of the city was still awake, recovering from the accident in the science labs.

She'd waited in her office, reading reports, helping to organize teams for rescue and clean-up, thinking about the three letters she'd have to write.

This shouldn't have happened.

She'd finally ventured into the labs to see the damage for herself and she couldn't help but be amazed at how much destruction the one device had caused. She spotted John and Ronon dismantling a section of cabinets that had taken the brunt of the blast, using both bare hands and hack saws. Lorne was sweeping another section, the clinking of glass and metal echoing through the room with every swipe of the broom. Several scientists were huddled in a corner wading through whatever equipment looked halfway salvageable.

It would take days before this section was back to anything close to normal, and the smell—she wasn't sure that would ever go away. In all actuality, she wouldn't be surprised if the science department moved out altogether. Although, there weren't many interconnected rooms like this left in this area.

Leaving the crews to their work, she'd turned and headed directly to the infirmary. By now thing should have quieted down dramatically. She should be able to get an update from Carson without receiving his wrath.

Stepping inside, she was unsurprised to see the majority of the infirmary beds full. Doctor Biro was hovering at the end of the nearest bed, writing notes down in the chart. She glanced very briefly over her shoulder as Weir entered, throwing her words over her shoulder as she continued to write.

"Lemons are in the shower. You'll want to start there if you're not bleeding."

"Lemons?"

Biro turned abruptly, her lips forming an "o" as she realized what she'd just said. "Sorry. We're still getting some of the cleaning crew stumbling down here with cuts and bruises. The lemon helps to get out the smell. If they're not bleeding, it's easier to have them shower first."

Weir smile was brittle. "I understand. Is Carson around?"

"Sure. I think I saw him last in his office. If he's not there, he's in one of the private rooms. Anne should know exactly where he is if you find her."

Elizabeth nodded and quietly moved deeper into the infirmary, offering gentle smiles and nods to those who were awake and caught her eye as she passed through. Turning a corner, she spotted Beckett seated at his desk, his elbows on the surface, his head in his hands.

Tapping lightly on the doorframe, she tried not to startle him. "Carson?"

"Elizabeth," he replied as he lifted his head, his bloodshot blue eyes glassy with fatigue. He gestured for her to enter and have a seat. "Come in. I was just gettin' ready to make my report, but ye beat me to it. Sorry about the mess," he added, as she moved a pile of paperwork that had accumulated on one of his guest chairs.

Depositing it on the floor, she chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, I've seen worse. So," she began, pausing slightly as she settled into the seat, not sure how to begin exactly. Where did you start? He obviously noticed her dilemma and just began speaking.

"I'll start with the accident report," he said, shuffling several pages on his desk before he picked up the one he wanted. "We treated twenty-two people, two of which were critical care cases, which I'll talk about in more detail in a moment. Out of the twenty then, most were treated for cuts and bruises and some smoke inhalation, but thankfully that was minor. The fire suppression system helped there."

Squinting at the sheet, he continued a beat later, rubbing his hand over one of his eyes. "A few of the rescue personnel were injured as well—mostly not paying attention to where they were stepping, but those were all minor. Overall, I'm keeping about ten overnight, just in case of any complications, but I’m not expecting any."

"Rodney and Miko?"

"I'll get there in a moment," he replied, shifting to another folder and another report. "We're making some slow progress with this disease, but after tonight, we're going to have to make up some time. Shelly's symptoms are progressing, but the cocktail I have her on seems to slow things down. I've started the other patients on a similar program and it seems to be helping—at least early on. We're keeping our fingers crossed."

"That sounds great, Carson," Weir complimented. She knew he'd be able to figure the illness out. It was just taking a little more time.

"Now for Rodney and Miko," he said, sighing a little as he shuffled more papers. "Doctor Kusangi had a minor concussion and a few cuts and bruises. It seems that Rodney managed to shield her from the majority of the flying debris. She regained consciousness not long after she arrived here, but because of the concussion we're keeping a close eye on her."

When he paused again, something in the pit of her stomach dropped. "Rodney was by far the one in the worst shape—apart from the dead bodies of course. He had multiple lacerations on his back, his arms and lower extremities as well as numerous cuts and bruises." Shaking his head he continued. "We managed to clean and debride all of his wounds, stitching a few, others we could close with a few butterfly bandages. I have him on pain meds because he's very uncomfortable."

"He was unconscious, I thought? The initial reports—"

"Yes, he was. He woke up mid-way through treatment screaming bloody murder, claiming we were ripping his skin off. The meds were for his comfort and safety."

He paused again, taking a few moments to rub at his eyes. "Once we were done and he settled down, I was able to get a better idea of how he was doing. Apart from the pain, he was coherent; knew where he was and what happened. Even though I didn't tell him about the deaths of the scientists, he knew already."

"Can I see him?"

Beckett shrugged. "If you want, but he was sleeping when I was in there a few minutes ago."

"I'd like to see him if I may," she replied, her words more of an order than a request. Hearing her tone, he nodded and slowly rose to his feet.

"Come on, but I'm going to insist that you do not wake him. The longer he sleeps, the less pain he'll feel."

She nodded, following Beckett as he led her toward the private rooms in the rear of the infirmary, he paused outside one, exchanging a few hushed words with his head nurse, Anne Matthews, before entering.

McKay was lying more or less on his stomach, a pillow half supporting him so he wasn't lying totally flat. Wires tracked from the machines surrounding him under the blankets that had been adjusted and folded perfectly so there wasn't a rumple. His face was pale and drawn, a few butterfly bandages on his temple and on the skin she could see above the sheet.

An IV ran into his arm and Beckett stepped to the side, adjusting the flow. She raised an eyebrow toward him and he moved back toward her, whispering a reply to her unvoiced question. "He was dehydrated and his electrolytes were all out of balance, so I'm trying to replace them while he's here. It doesn't look like he's been eating as regularly as he should."

"Does he have what's going around?"

"No, there's no sign of it. This is just Rodney being stubborn."

Gesturing for her to follow him, they stopped just outside the room where they could talk in something more than a whisper. "He should be right as rain in a few days. Depending on how uncomfortable he is, I may keep him here the entire time. Might be easier than listening to him complain. You may want to re-assign some of his current projects until he's back on his feet."

"How long?"

"It all depends on him. If he follows my instructions and takes it easy, a few days. If he doesn't…" Carson shrugged. "I'd say four days tops and he can return to light duty. Three if he behaves."

Elizabeth nodded. "I'll make the arrangements for Doctor Zelenka to take over some of his projects. Although, I imagine most of his time was going to the Ancient devices."

"I imagine you're correct," he replied, moving with her as they walked back toward the main section of the infirmary.

"You're going to get some rest, right?" she asked when they reached his office. He nodded wearily.

"Aye. Anne's been after me for a few hours now, so I’m going to catch a bit of shut-eye in one of the rooms in the back that's empty. I want to be around in case Rodney wakes up cranky. Anne can handle him, but there's no need to subject her to him when he's in pain."

"And it's okay that you do it to yourself?"

Carson shrugged, a wry smile touching his lips. "I'm used to it. Besides, if I don't he'll swear he's dying."

"Get some rest, Carson."

"Aye. You too."

"Have a good night, and good work."

He nodded, offering her a half smile that she took with her as she walked out of the infirmary and to her quarters, deciding to take her own advice to heart. She could finish everything up tomorrow.

***

He was tired of lying down. He was tired of blinking only to find several hours had passed and it was time for someone to poke at his wounds. Then, he grew tired of staring at the same walls for hours on end, keeping as still as possible because every movement hurt like the dickens. He was tired of drifting in and out when the pain got to be too much and he couldn't sleep, allowing him to hover somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

Apart from Carson and that Anne girl, oh, and an occasional visit from Radek, he'd been left to his own devices, allowed to stew and think of everything that had gone wrong and what he might have done to fix it.

Rodney was tired of playing the 'what if' game. He never won and it always made him depressed.

"Rodney?"

The voice came from the door, hesitant and with a lilt. Carson. What did he want now? Hadn't he just been in here to bother him a few minutes ago, or was that a few hours. He hated not knowing where the time went.

"What?" he mumbled into the pillow, tired of not being able to see who was coming in the room.

"Are you up for a visitor?"

"Not like I'm doing anything else," he replied, rolling his eyes as he shifted a little, hissing in pain, but realizing it wasn't as bad as he remembered.

"Okay, then, I'll leave you two alone," he said; the swoosh of fabric the only indication that Beckett had left. When no one came into view immediately, Rodney's jaw tightened in annoyance.

"If you're just going to stand there and stare I'm sure there are much more interesting things to look at somewhere else."

A shuffle of feet followed a beat later and John Sheppard came into view. Rodney's scowl darkened.

"Did you get lost?"

Sheppard returned the scowl as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "You up to answering a few questions?"

"Talking I can do."

"I noticed," he said dryly. "So what happened to the damn lab, McKay?"

"Oh, did you miss the whole event? I thought an Ancient device exploding within a confined space would be pretty obvious."

"Brady was working on it?"

"Yes yes yes. Brady was working on it," he replied, his arm itching to gesture and move, but he knew he'd end up paying the price. "He was having some issues so he called me into the lab he was working on. Kusangi, Zelenka, and I were floaters, helping anyone they needed it—which was most everyone, but that's another story entirely."

"The device?"

"Everything was fine until he decided to poke at the insides. He must have hit something because we started getting a power reading, one that was increasing steadily."

"Booby trap?"

"Maybe. In any case, we needed to turn it off, but Brady—the brilliant man that he was—decided he knew what the problem was and that he could fix it. That wasn't the case. So while he blundered along, I ordered everyone out as a precaution."

"How did the device end up in the main lab?"

"When it became painfully obvious to all of us that he didn't have any idea what he was doing, he started to panic. We had a safe box in the lab. I suggested we place it in there and let the damn thing explode. It would have been contained. I didn't want it going off in the small lab because god only knows what it would have done to the pipes and systems running through that back wall. Then Brady had an epiphany."

McKay shifted, trying to alleviate some of the tension growing in his back shoulder muscles. Just thinking about it made him angry. "There was some tool in the main lab that he knew would fix the problem, so he took it into the lab and the rest, as you say, is history."

"That's it?"

"That's it. What were you expecting 'War and Peace'? It was a stupid accident."

"And three men are dead."

"I know."

"So, how did Brady end up with the device in the first place?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "He got it from me."

"I see," Sheppard said, his tone condescending.

"What do you want from me?" Rodney asked, shoving himself a few inches upward so he could look at John a little closer. He hissed in pain, but didn't stop until he was poised on his elbows, his body lifted farther than it had been in nearly two days. "They knew what they were working with, knew it was dangerous. We were taking all the appropriate precautions."

Sheppard shoved himself away from the wall, taking a few steps forward before stopping, still more than an arm's length from the bed. "I thought you and Zelenka were going to go over every single entry in that database before handing out the devices like candy to babies."

"That would have taken weeks to go through everything. They knew what they were doing," McKay replied, pushing out the response through gritted teeth.

"Apparently not."

"What do you want from me? An apology?" McKay asked, his voice rising along with the noise from the monitors. "Well, you can have that. I’m sorry they're dead, but it was Brady's damn fault. If he'd only listened in the first place—"

"Listened to who? You?"

"Yes, me. Who else?"

"Well, if you'd only taken your time and examined everything before handing it out we wouldn't be having this conversation now, would we?"

"Gentlemen!"

Carson stormed into the room, rounding the bed so both John and Rodney could see the anger on his face. "I did not let you in here to agitate my patient, Colonel, so unless you can continue this conversation in a normal tone and volume, I suggest you leave."

"I'm done." Sheppard said, his expression locking down. He turned a moment later, walking out the door, his back so rigid it looked painful. He didn't glance back.

Rodney glared at the wall, refusing to meet Carson's eyes even when he felt a hand rest lightly on his shoulder, trying to help ease him back down onto the bed. His arms were shaking and it didn't take much before he was once again resting against the pillows, the pain in his back only fueling his anger, his frustration, his own guilt. He shouldn’t have listened to Kusangi, but the decision had been made and he wasn't one to point fingers. He was the boss and the buck stopped with him.

"Are you in a lot of pain? I should look at the stitches and make sure you didn't pull anything."

"I'm fine."

"Rodney, it'll just take a minute—"

"I said I'm fine. Now if you don't mind, I'm tired and I'd like to sleep." Closing his eyes, he shifted slightly, trying to make himself comfortable, trying to move without hissing.

A moment later and he felt his muscles start to sag in relief. He appreciated the fact that Beckett had ignored him, giving him a little something through the IV to take the edge off. As he drifted off to sleep he realized Sheppard hadn't even bothered to ask him how he was feeling.

***

"I still do not understand why I am here," Zelenka said, sitting down in one of Elizabeth's office chairs as Colonel Sheppard lounged near the closed door.

"We wanted to speak to you about what transpired the other night in the lab," Weir replied, her tone even, clearly intent on keeping and holding her composure. That night had scared many—her included—he thought as his gaze rested on her pale face.

"Did you not talk to Rodney? He gave me report when asked."

Weir's eyes slid sideways toward the Colonel. "John spoke with him."

"So, what seems to be issue?"

Her glaze moved again, this time resting on her clasped hands before she finally responded. "Colonel Sheppard and I think that it would be in the best interests of Atlantis for you to take over the project involving the Ancient devices the four off-world teams brought back."

Zelenka felt his forehead wrinkling a little as he glanced back and forth between the two people before him. "I'm afraid I still do not understand."

"It's simple." Sheppard said, forcibly removing himself from the wall. "We want you to make sure we don't have any more accidents like the one we had."

"But," Radek said, "I'm already in charge of that project. I spoke with Rodney yesterday when I got his full report. He informed me that I was to take over any further research regarding the Ancient devices, that he had other projects he needed to do that were more important." Zelenka shrugged. "Did he not speak to you about it?"

Sheppard and Weir actually looked shocked at his words. Elizabeth finally managed to pull her thoughts together. "No," she said, pausing to glance at the other man whose own gaze was fixed on the opposite wall. "He was sleeping when I was there last."

Radek, though, knew the truth of her statement. She'd been there once on the night of the accident and had yet to return. Sheppard, likewise, had visited once and had left as if the devil was nipping at his heels—according to the rumors that is. And Zelenka knew who to trust when it came to information like this.

"Then, if there is nothing more," he said rising to his feet and adjusting the glasses on his nose.

"No. No, I think we're done," Weir said, her lips a thin line.

Nodding, he walked to the door, palming the release on the side, waiting as the panel opened to allow him to exit. "Colonel," he added, before the door was completely open, "before you file your final report, you may wish to speak with Doctor Kusangi. She may have some additional information."

"Thanks," he replied, his voice distant. "I'll do that."

Walking through the control room he ignored the curious glances and the furtive looks. Sometimes he swore he worked in a high school instead of a highly classified alien outpost in another galaxy. At this point, he was not sure there was much of a difference.

***

John Sheppard wandered though the main science lab, the late hour making the trek a nearly silent one. Wisinski had confirmed that Kusangi was in the lab, 'somewhere in the back', which left quite a number of small offices and laboratories for him to search. He offered quick smiles to the scientists who looked up when he poked his head in the door, but mostly the few remaining ones ignored him. That was normal, though.

He finally found her in the back of the lab, apparently exactly where Wisinski said she'd be. Knocking lightly on the door frame, she glanced up from her computer workstation, pausing in her typing only long enough to wave him in.

"Colonel, what can I do for you?"

As he stepped inside, his eyes immediately scanned the room, noting the clutter on the shelves and surfaces. He was sure that she had every single dust particle cataloged. She was the type that even amidst absolute chaos would know exactly where something was.

The clicking of her fingers on the keyboard was the only sound as he settled into the stool opposite from where she was working. There was still a bandage on her arm from the accident several nights ago, but she seemed more subdued than normal. He'd been down here before when she and McKay were going at it. She could give almost as good as the physicist.

"I was finishing up my report of the accident the other night and Zelenka mentioned that you might have something to add," he finally said, deciding not to beat around the bush. The Czech had already side-swiped them today. He wasn't looking for a head-on collision with another immovable scientist.

The typing slowed before it finally trailed off entirely, her hands sliding off the keyboard to rest in her lap. She held his gaze evenly for a long moment before she nodded once, slowly, more, it seemed, in answer of her own internal question than anything else.

"What has Doctor McKay told you?"

"That Doctor Brady thought he could fix the device he accidentally turned on."

"No, not about that. We've all been through that," she said, rolling her eyes, her right hand lifting up enough to offer an absent wave. "Before that."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side a little. "I'm not following."

"I think you should know that it wasn't McKay's decision to distribute the Ancient devices a few days ago. Well, it was, but…"

"But?"

"It was going to take him weeks to go through everything and a number of the scientists didn't think it was fair that he was going to be the one to go though all the new technology—especially after what happened. So, I was elected to talk to him since I was already working on the project with him."

"And you talked to him?"

"Yes."

"And what did he say?"

"At the time, I thought he was being selfish and overly cautious. Now…I'm not so sure." She glanced down toward her fingers, watching them as she clasped her hands together. "Part of me wonders if none of this would have happened if I hadn't been so insistent."

"You can't second-guess yourself. This might have happened in another week and more people could have been injured. You can't keep playing the 'what if' game. It doesn't change anything." But even as the words left his mouth a pang of hypocrisy rose up from within, screaming and ranting at him, but he pushed it back. That was different…wasn't it?

"I know," she said with a shrug. "Doesn't mean I'm going to stop."

John nodded, rising to his feet. "Thanks again for your time, Doc. Appreciate it."

"That's it? I figured I might have gotten myself into a whole mess of trouble."

"No," he said shaking his head, partly trying to shake free the voice that was still railing at him. "I guess we'll just take this whole…situation as a hard-learned lesson. What do you think?"

"I think you're right. Good night, sir," she said, a relieved smile on her face.

As John made his way out of the science labs, he realized he had a lot to think about.

He'd been out of line, way out of line, when he'd talked to—yelled at, scolded, criticized, shouted at, take your pick—McKay. Not only was the man still recovering from an injury, he'd managed to protect the majority of his staff from major injuries when he ordered everyone to evacuate, and even make sure Miko was out of the direct line of fire when the debris were hurdling through the air, placing his body in the way instead.

And then, there was this whole project. Without batting an eye, McKay'd given responsibility to Radek as soon as the Czech showed his face in the infirmary. And he'd done it seemingly without a worry or concern about his ego, his chance to make a name for himself. For McKay to give something this big to someone else, especially something that involved Ancient technology, his specialty, he must have known what he and Elizabeth had been thinking, what they'd been planning. So instead of having it taken from him, he'd given it away to someone he trusted to do the job.

When had John lost the ability to know what McKay was thinking, to know what he was capable of?

That question bothered him more than he realized.

***

For the past four days Carson Beckett had watched Rodney.

In reality, there wasn't much more he could do. He gave the man medication when the pain got to be too much and he couldn't sleep. He checked and double-checked the wounds on his back, making sure they were healing correctly—but even that had become a battle. He even used one of the Ancient devices to help speed the healing process, watching as the wounds shrunk and the scars slowly faded.

He made sure Rodney was eating regularly, even if his appetite was barely existent. And then when he refused to eat, intravenous nutrients were given instead. Carson would not allow Rodney to win in that matter. He knew what could happen when his friend's blood sugar dropped too low. Although Carson knew spending most of your day sleeping didn't exactly build up a healthy appetite.

And between it all, Carson tried to talk to Rodney, but the man refused, feigning sleep or simply telling him he wasn't in the mood.

Damn, stubborn scientists.

So, instead, he watched from a distance, filling his professional role as a doctor and care-giver, but nothing more. Rodney wouldn't let him do anything else.

That simple refusal hurt.

Anne had dropped off Rodney's grey science uniform a little while ago, placing it on the small table adjacent to the bed. She'd spoken with him briefly, her tone quiet and calm, letting him know that he would be released in a few hours. Knowing how sore and stiff he still was, she'd offered to help him get dressed. Another set of hands would have been helpful, but of course, he'd refused as they both knew he would.

Carson had nodded to Anne when she'd stepped outside the private room shrugging apologetically, her lab coat-covered shoulders dropping. Usually Anne was one of the few nurses Rodney didn't terrorize. There was something he'd seen in her at one point that allowed him to treat her as another human being—at least as near as it was with him. Anne could cajole him to behave, to submit to some test or another, or on the rare occasion stop his rambling and ranting.

She'd told Carson last night when they were both standing at the door that the cold shoulder she'd received just brought her back to how it was when she'd first arrived; it was almost like she was starting over again with him.

He'd patted her shoulder, letting her know it was alright. One thing he'd learned when it came to patients is that sometimes you could only truly aid the ones who wanted to be helped.

So here he was, nearly an hour later, hovering outside the door to Rodney's room, McKay's chart tucked under his arm, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, watching as his friend struggled to get his uniform shirt over his head and tugged into place. It took several tries and many muttered curses, but it finally complied, the battle won. The jacket quickly followed and he tentatively settled back on the bed, the white scrubs in a pile next to him, his feet swinging as he sat and waited.

Steeling himself, he walked in, plastering a smile on his face. "Rodney, sorry it took me so long to get down here. I was caught up with some other things." Setting the chart down, he narrowed his eyes to examine his friend carefully. The clothes were a little big, hanging awkwardly in some places and Carson resisted the urge to tug them into their rightful places. The physicist was still pale, the dark grey only emphasizing the whiteness of his skin. Sweat beaded a little along his hairline—spoils from the battle with his clothes—dampening a few light brown hairs, turning them dark. His blue eyes still held the hint of pain, the recent movement taking its toll. Overall, though, McKay was a lot better than he'd been a few days ago.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Fine," he replied curtly, his crooked mouth turned down in a frown, his chin lifted slightly in the air. "Can I go?"

"In a minute. Before I release you I want to go over a few things," Carson said, dragging the visitor's chair so he could face the scientist.

"I know the routine." For a moment, Carson thought Rodney was going to straighten up and cross his hands over his chest in his usual gesture of stubbornness, but the physicist stilled, the tips of his fingers twitching a little, annoyance sliding over his features. Apparently, Rodney was learning the meaning of the words "take it easy".

"You probably do, but I want to make sure," Carson replied, tapping his hand against his the tan fabric of his thigh. "You're on light duty for the next few days."

"I said I'm fine." If possible, Rodney's frown deepened.

"Let me rephrase this for ye then," Carson said, narrowing his eyes at the stubborn scientist. "I don't want ye doin' anything strenuous until you're no longer wincing from every little movement because of the sore muscles in your back. And yes, I know it still hurts. It's written all over your face." When Rodney didn't protest, he continued. "After a few days, you'll be back on the active duty list, and if I'm not mistaken, that's just in time for you to go back on the off-world duty roster as well."

Rodney huffed but didn't comment.

"If you don't feel right for any reason, I want you to come and see me immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes," Rodney glanced up, his blue eyes piercing. "You'll be the second person to know if anything is wrong with me after I finish having a panic attack. Can I go?"

"And light duty means no long hours in the lab and getting at least eight hours of sleep a night."

"Yes, yes, yes. I know the routine. Do I need to come back for a follow-up?"

"I'd like to see you in three days for a quick look at your back. Otherwise, you're free to go."

"Thank you," he said, sliding off the bed, his booted feet hitting the floor with a thump. A few seconds later and he had already vanished from sight.

Shaking his head, Carson rose, shoving the plastic chair back to where it had gone unused the past several days, only occupied once when Rodney insisted Zelenka sit because the Czech was giving him pains in his neck when he tried to follow his pacing movements.

Things had certainly changed.

***

Elizabeth Weir glanced up, a smile growing on her face when she saw Carson Beckett at her door. "You said you had good news. I could use some of that right now," she said, gesturing for him to take a seat. She leaned back in her chair, stretching some of the kinks out of her frame.

"Aye, I think it is," he said, settling in with a sigh, arranging his lab coat, the stethoscope still hanging around his neck, the ends banging slightly against his yellow-shirted chest. "We've finally narrowed this disease down."

"That is good news." She leaned forward, elbows on her desk, truly attentive for the first time in hours. There was only so much enthusiasm she could manifest for some of these reports. She had to read them all, but it didn't necessarily mean that they were exciting. Usually, the exact opposite.

"It seems that those with the ATA gene, either naturally or through gene therapy, are immune to this little bugger, which got me thinking why only some of the Athosians have contracted the disease. From what we can tell, it's triggered by the absence of a certain genetic marker. If you don't have the marker, you get the disease."

"So, as soon as you give everyone the marker we'll all be fine and this will be over?"

Carson shrugged. "Simply, aye, that's the answer, but it's a wee bit more complicated. We still need to isolate the marker and then create a vaccine. And we need to know how it got here in the first place."

"I agree. I have Sergeant Whitmore working on the off-world reports, matching team members with some of the places we've visited. He's going back about a month, month and a half. There's a lot to go through, but we'll get there. But in terms of the genetic marker, do you know what you're looking for?"

"Aye. I think we do. Now, I need to send Anne to the mainland with a pilot to get some blood samples from the uninfected Athosians. So far Teyla doesn't have it, but she's still within the incubation period. Once I get those samples I can be certain."

"We can get a jumper over there today."

Carson offered a weary smile as he rose to his feet, brushing a piece of lint or something away from the leg of his tan pants. "Good. That would be great. Let Anne know as soon as a pilot is available."

"I'm sure Major Lorne or Colonel Sheppard would be willing to make a quick run. Maybe even within the hour." He nodded in reply, his mouth settling into a thin line. When he didn't turn to leave immediately, she raised an eyebrow. "Is there something else?"

"I released Rodney this morning. He's on light duty for the next few days, but should be right as rain by the end of the week."

"That's good news, Carson. I'm sure he's happy to be back on his feet."

"About that…" he began, clearly unsure of what to say, his eyes focused on his boots. "I know you told me to stay out of your decision, but what's going to happen at the end of the week? Rodney should be finished with his on-base confinement by then."

Weir shrugged lightly. "I haven't had the opportunity to speak with Colonel Sheppard about the matter, but I don't see any issues with him returning to full active duty. It'll be up to him as to how he decides to fulfill those duties."

"He'd be permitted to join the off-world missions?"

"If he chooses to, yes. Of course, that's once we can get this virus cleared up."

"You don't think he will?"

Weir glanced down briefly before meeting Carson's gaze. "He's always complaining that he never gets to finish any of his projects; that he hates having to face death the way they do on such a regular basis. He might take this opportunity to change some things, to spend his time in the lab instead of in the field. You've heard him I'm sure."

Carson nodded. "Aye, of course, but that's just Rodney's way of blowing off steam. Ye can't take him too serious when he's in full rant mode." When the doctor paused she swore she could see the condemnation in his eyes, reminding her that she used to know Rodney very well, and that she could see though his bluster, but then his eyes softened and an emotion she couldn't identify replaced it. His words, while quietly uttered, held a note of steel, as if daring her to say no. "I'd hope that you'd talk him out of it if he decided to stay on base."

"Why?" she asked, more out of rote than anything. It wasn't like she had much influence over what the scientist decided to do once he made up his mind.

"For one thing, we'd be at a severe disadvantage. How many times has one of Rodney's crazy, panic-induced ideas saved our arses? And, while Atlantis gives Rodney a home, the Pegasus Galaxy lets him fly. Take that away and you might be surprised at the man that would be left behind." He moved, the fabric of his lab coat shifting with him. "Don't let him become something less than what he can be. Give Rodney the benefit of the doubt. That’s all I ask."

***

After he'd finally left the suffocating clutches of Beckett and his minions in the infirmary, Rodney McKay wasn't sure what to do with himself. Normally, he would have headed straight to his lab, involving himself in one of his many current projects, but he'd managed to finish a few of them over his confinement to his quarters and in the week following, leaving only his final report to complete. But, that could wait. The others he didn't feel like working on.

He could have wandered to the office where Radek had set up shop to study the Ancient devices, but he wasn't in the mood to deal with them right now, and besides, if he wanted to fiddle with them, he had his own device safely stashed in his quarters—partially dismantled from his tinkering before the lab exploded.

And what a mess that had been.

He should have known something like that was going to happen; things has been running much too smoothly. Between the three of them, they'd managed to help the teams figure out a few of the appliances and had even started a few scientists on their second round of toys. It seemed that everything was just a piece of a larger device, but some of them were designed to work together. They'd been making head-way until Brady called him in.

Why did that man have to get one of the volatile ones?

Pausing in his meanderings through Atlantis, he looked around, trying to figure out where he was. He didn't recognize the hallway or the area immediately, but then something slid into place. He was at the door to the secondary labs where they'd been conducting all of their research. The smell of smoke and something else was what brought all of the memories flooding back.

Stepping into the room, his eyes skittered around taking in the still-blackened walls and the voids where people or machinery used to lie. The room had been cleared of everything—garbage and intact equipment, the latter moved to Zelenka's newly-outfitted area for Ancient device research. He wouldn't be surprised if the Czech tried to claim that whole area as his once they were finished with the project—not that he'd let him, of course. At least not officially.

Absently scratching and itch on his chest, he slowly walked though the room, the smell of death in the form of Lemon Pine Sol swirling around him. It was light, but the fragrance was there. He wouldn't stay long in any case, but he needed to come here, to look at the damage his shortsightedness had caused.

If only he'd stuck to his initial decision, not caring what the scientists thought of him. Not that he really cared in any case, but after Doranda, he'd needed that acceptance from them—albeit misplaced and misguided as it was—since there was no where else to get it.

Whatever friends he'd made, bridges he'd built, had come crumbling down, but even though it all, he realized, he still…cared…worried about this place, about its people more than he wanted to. They'd broken through the walls and had taken up residence somewhere deep within. And it was for that reason, and that reason alone, that he was still here, still trying to make things better, make things right.

He sighed, his fingertips lightly skimming the surface of the nearest workbench, pausing at the edge, his eyes resting on the darkened surface of the containment vessel they'd discovered nearly a year ago, the same device that would have saved Brady's life—and the other two scientists—if he'd listened to Rodney and just placed it inside, sealing the cover over it.

Brady had gone the other way, instead, toward the selection of tools they'd set aside for group use. 'Trust me' he'd said even as McKay'd rushed after him, telling him that he was going to get them all killed.

And when the device started its shrill cry, McKay'd known it was too late, he'd turned and shoved Miko back in the small room and tried to think the door closed, but it was too late. He felt the hot blast as the device exploded, impaling his back with metal and debris as he tried to protect the diminutive woman from danger.

Instead, he'd managed to give her a concussion as they slammed to the floor, the door finally closing and locking, but far too late for either of them to care as their hold on consciousness faded.

So, what came next? To stay or to go, that was really what it all came down to. He was weary, tired of fighting with everyone, with everything that came their way. There had to be an easier way to do this, to live without the constant threat of death.

But then, he thought back and remembered that sometime during that first week, he'd briefly considered the possibility of going back to Earth, to just pick up and leave everything behind and something inside felt like it was going to crack, leaving him even more broken than he'd already found himself to be.

He couldn't imagine living anywhere but Atlantis. This was finally home—or as close to home as he was ever going to get. And even now, thinking about going back to Earth made him sick in a way Carson could never fix.

But there was another option.

It seemed like his mind might have made the decision without him. The life and times of a genius, he guessed, shrugging to himself as he stopped in the middle of the quiet lab, his arms pulled around him.

He stood there a few more minutes before shaking off his thoughts and moving toward the door, his steps confident, his head held high. He had work to do.

***

He'd watched McKay from the shadows of the lab, seen him pause throughout the room, seen the bare emotions on his face, watched as he seemed to shrink in on himself.

It was painful to see this normally loud and obnoxious scientist reduced to the same silence that surrounded him.

As soon as he'd seen the physicist walking toward this section of Atlantis, he'd known exactly where he was going and knew he shouldn't be alone—even if he thought he was. But then, after he slipped into the lab only a few seconds behind the scientist, he'd known he shouldn't be here, that this was a private moment between McKay and his inner demons.

Several minutes passed and then, without any advance warning, McKay was out the door, his long strides taking him away from here and to somewhere else.

But this time the physicist went alone.

For here, in this room, there were still demons to be battled.

***

A shadow on her table made Elizabeth Weir glance up from her lunch, a smile of welcome on her face for the Athosian. "Teyla. Have you eaten?" When the woman didn't move immediately, Weir gestured to the chair across from her. "You look like you have a lot on your mind. Why don't you sit?"

Teyla slid gracefully into the seat, resting her hand on the surface of the table, palms down, fingers splayed, her eyes fixed on the long, thin appendages.

"I was sorry to hear about Treling," Elizabeth finally said, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "I know he was much loved and respected among your people."

Teyla glanced up, her dark eyes holding the memories of her friend. They had all lost so much, so many friends and colleagues, over the past few years and for Teyla, each and every one mattered. She felt each loss as deeply as if it were the first. "I appreciate your words and your sympathies, Doctor Weir. It is regarding that matter of which I have come to speak."

"How can I help?"

"I wish to go and be with my people during this time. With our current…situation, I do not believe my absence will be noted."

Elizabeth shifted in her chair, her hands tugging and smoothing her red shirt into place as she stalled, tried to find the words she needed. All through her life and her professional career, she'd found the usefulness of words, of phrases and tones. Instead of battling with weapons, she used her mind and her tongue to break and to heal. "Teyla," she began, only to trail off at the shake of the woman's head.

"I am not asking this of you."

"Doctor Beckett believes it is wise for us to remain on Atlantis for the time being until he can develop a cure for this disease. I agree with his assessment. I don't—"

"Doctor Weir, you have said yourself that Doctor Beckett believes I may already be infected with this illness. If that is the case, no harm can be done if I travel to the mainland. And, if I am immune, no harm shall befall me among my people. I came to you as a courtesy. Please do not insist that I make a formal statement of my intentions. I had…believed we had moved past that."

Weir's lips thinned, but she nodded slowly. "We have, Teyla. I'm just…concerned about the welfare of everyone here and on the mainland."

"Then allow me this courtesy. My people are grieving the loss of such a respected man. Allow me to walk among them and comfort them. It shall only take a few hours."

"Very well. I'll ask John to pilot one of the jumpers. It shouldn't take him long to get ready."

Teyla rose, inclining her head toward Elizabeth in respect and gratitude. "Thank you, Doctor Weir. I must prepare. I bid you a good day."

As the Athosian swept out of the mess hall, Elizabeth couldn't help but sigh. There was something about the words she'd said, the concept of grieving and offering comfort that was universal in many cultures. Looking at her half-eaten sandwich and the pile of reports at her elbow, she quickly made up her mind, rising to her feet and disposing of the garbage. Gathering her belongings, she walked out of the mess and into the hall, letting her feet lead her down to the science labs.

It was time she walked among her people, the ones who were grieving for their own recent losses.

***


	2. Chapter 2

Muttering to himself, Radek Zelenka threw down his stylus and shoved the stool away from the desk as he rose to his feet, pacing around the room while he directed his irate comments to the wall, ceiling, and the laptop sitting serenely a few feet away.

No wonder Rodney wanted him on the project. The database was unmanageable! He'd spent the last three days wading through its contents after the Ancient to English translator had completed its job only to discover it was a miss-mash of scientists' notes and equipment specifications and occasionally directions on how the devices were to be used.

The Ancient IT manager had not believed in cross-referencing any of the projects, however.

This monstrosity of a database was more a collection of pieces and parts instead of a useful, working tool—much like what the items they were examining were turning out to be, pieces of much larger devices.

How could they develop anything like this?

He could not stay here a moment longer.

Leaning over the stool, he locked down the laptop with a few quick key commands and headed for the door. Rodney should be in the lab. He should be able to answer some questions. For some reason, that man was the only one who was convinced the Ancient databases made sense.

Maybe something was lost in the translation.

Whatever it was, Radek thought as he stepped into the transporter, jamming his finger against the panel nearest to the main science labs, there had to be a better way to do this. He stepped out on the other end, his thoughts not even interrupted. Whether he wanted to or not, Rodney was going to help—even if he had to bribe and threaten the man.

And he knew where all the good stuff was horded.

So engrossed in his own thoughts, he plowed into a body coming out of the science lab, nearly knocking them both to the floor. As he steadied himself, curses on the tip of his tongue, he finally glanced up coming face to face with Elizabeth Weir.

"Doctor Weir! I…I did not…are you hurt?"

"No," she said straightening, smoothing her clothing before her hand rose to adjust the dark hair that had come untucked from behind her ear. "I'm fine, just startled. Are you okay? You looked like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"Perhaps you are correct for it seems as if that were so," he said, pulling his glasses. He picked up the hem of his shirt and absently cleaned them before putting them back into place on the bridge of his nose. "I am in the middle of research but needed to move to try and get my mind working once again. I also needed to speak to Rodney."

"He's not in there."

"No?" His eyebrow rose as he tried to look around her into the lab.

"No," she repeated, turning to follow his gaze for a moment before she focused on him once again. "I was just in there talking to some of the scientists. Unless he is invisible, he's not there."

"And while I know Rodney would enjoy that kind of Ancient device, I know for a fact we have not yet found such a one."

"Is everything okay?" she asked, falling in step with him as he turned and headed for the stairs. Glancing at his watch, Radek realized how late it was. Rodney was probably in his lab. He was always there in the afternoons and if he didn't hurry there would be little afternoon left.

"Fine. I have to discuss with him the impossibilities of dealing with Ancient mainframe databases. It sings to Rodney while sputtering at everyone else." Radek shook his head. "Sorry. I am merely frustrated."

"It's understandable. There's a lot in the database and it can be overwhelming to try and absorb everything or find one piece of data in that vast sea of information." She offered a gentle smile as they turned into the stair well.

Several moments of silence passed as they climbed the stairs. "Not to sound as if I were attempting to shoo you away, but do you not have business elsewhere?"

She chuckled. "Why am I here, eh?" She shrugged. "It's about time that I spend more time with everyone on base, hear their concerns firsthand instead of simply sitting in my office. And with everything that's happened, it's good for people to see the senior staff, to reassure them. Besides, the walk will do me good—or so Carson keeps telling me."

"Then, yes, it makes sense that I nearly knock you down coming out of the lab."

"Yes, it would." She paused at the top of the stairs, her expression changing from the relaxed openness she'd been sharing with him to a much more guarded one. "Doctor Zelenka," she began, her hand raised to catch his elbow. "How is Rodney? I've only seen him at a handful of meetings and I never seem to be able to catch him before he leaves to speak with him myself."

"You can ask him momentarily. He should only be a few more feet down this corridor."

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she replied, her gaze hovering over his right shoulder. "I’m not sure that would be a good idea."

Radek nodded, pressing him lips into a tight line. "Perhaps you are correct. He has been Rodney." He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, one hand on his chin. "He has been focused on his own projects, something with the Wraith technology I believe. He has also been trolling the Atlantis mainframe for me, attempting to locate more information about the weapons the Ancients were designing."

"So…about normal?"

"Yes," he replied, nodding slightly. "For Rodney this is normal. And I am sure that he has several other projects running, but has not spoken to me about them."

"Normal is good."

"Generally, yes. Means we have slightly better chance of not dying if something horrific happens." He paused, waiting to see if she was going to say anything else, but instead she stood silently, her brow furrowed, her lips in a thin line, her thoughts louder than any words could be.

"If that is all, Doctor Weir," he finally said, managing to break her out of her own ruminations, "I should be on my way."

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry I kept you, Doctor Zelenka. And," she said, finally looking at him, her eyes a little lighter than they'd been a moment before, "thank you."

He inclined his head toward her and smiled lightly, watching as she turned and treaded back down the stairs. Sooner or later she would have to speak to Rodney, and vice versa. But, knowing the scientist and the doctor, that could take some time.

He sighed. Stubborn people.

***

Pushing back from the workstation, Carson Beckett rubbed a weary hand across his face, pressing his thumb and pointer finger on the pressure points on either side of his temple. He had a hell of a headache and he knew it wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.

The results he was staring at kept blurring together.

They were almost there. He could feel it.

The samples they'd gotten from the Athosians had helped narrow things down, but it was still taking time to actually create the vaccine.

Time he wasn't sure they had.

"Doctor Beckett?" Carrie Houston, one of the lab technicians, appeared at his elbow, her footfalls nearly silent, causing him to jump at her greeting.

"Oh lassie, I didn't hear ye come in," he said, offering a half smile as he turned, already knowing she'd start apologizing. She couldn't help it if she walked quietly and he wasn't paying attention. She was clutching several pages in her hands along with her tablet. "What have you got for me?"

Her apologetic look turned into a frown. "I'm not sure."

His forehead scrunched together as he took the tablet from her hands, tapping the screen to move through the reports. They all looked as he expected until he got to the last page.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing to it.

"That's the problem. We're not sure."

"What?"

Houston shrunk back a little at the heat in his voice.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, waved his hand, trying to get his voice level once again. He pushed the question out through his clenched teeth. "What happened?"

"We think they may have mixed up some of the samples. I can't say where that last result came from."

Carson took a breath before he yelled again. "Are you trying to tell me that the only test that worked you can't replicate?"

"We can, but we have to run everything again."

"So, why, are ye standing here telling me about it?"

As she dashed off, he shook his head turning back to his own reports. On days like this he had to agree with Rodney. He was working with idiots.

***

Rodney McKay glanced up as soon as he heard the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway. Listening carefully, he was able to figure out it was just one set and from the stride, it had to be Radek.

What part of 'I don't want to be disturbed' did he not understand? Rodney had things to do and the last thing he needed was Zelenka hovering, asking questions, poking his nose into his research. He needed to get rid of him—and fast. Because knowing the scientist, he'd be able to figure things out quicker than anyone else, and he still needed time.

So as soon as the Czech rounded the corner, Rodney was ready with a glare and a snide remark. "Fancy seeing you here. Aren't you supposed to be on the other side of the city researching Ancient technology?"

Radek came up short, his surprise quickly replaced by annoyance. "Yes, and I would be there if Ancient IT programmer had any modicum of logic in brain."

"You knew what it would be like going in. Not like it's anything new."

Radek opened his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly, apparently thinking otherwise. He moved into the room, finally stopping on the other side of the worktable, his palms pressed into the surface, his gaze settling on Rodney.

"As much as I hate to admit, this project is much better in your hands."

Holding back a smirk at the scientist's omission, he crossed his arms over his chest,

his chin rising. "While I admit I have a much better grasp of the Ancient database than anyone else on this base, I didn't think you'd give up so quickly, Radek. I didn't take you for a quitter." He shook his head as he watched the other man's anger slowly rise. "I'll have to remember that when you come complaining to me about one thing or another. Throw him a fantastic project and he'll crumble."

Zelenka opened his mouth several times, but nothing emerged.

"Look," he continued a moment later, waving his right hand absently before tucking it back against his body, "if you have a question about something specific, I'll answer it, but the project's yours. Besides, I don't think Elizabeth or Sheppard would look kindly on you if you turned it back over to me, especially since they obviously wanted you to have it in the first place."

He paused again, gauging the height of his fellow scientist's ire before adding the final piece, noting his tightly clenched fists and the tint of red that was slowly rising from Radek's collar to encompass his entire face.

"Now, if you don't mind, I do have to get back to work. I have several things to finish up here before I go and repair some systems that the rest of the staff screwed up the first time around. Just remember that I'm picking up your slack while you're focused on the other project. Not that I mind, but some of this you should have handled before it was dropped in my lap."

Radek took several steps back away from the table, his fists held stiffly at his sides, his eyes narrowed at him. Vaguely, Rodney realized that if he were any closer to the Czech, he'd probably get a punch in the face right about now.

Thank God for large Ancient workbenches.

"On second thought, I do not require your assistance at all in this matter," Radek hissed, his jaw clenched tightly closed, his lips barely parting to allow the words through. "Do not think I will forget this."

And with a sharp turn, he walked out of the lab, vanishing around the corner a moment later.

Once he was sure the other man was gone, Rodney slumped, his elbows on the table's surface, his head cradled in his hands, his headache pounding behind his eyes. He had so much to finish, he couldn't deal with a migraine right now.

But it was typical of his luck.

Turning back to his laptop, he continued where he'd left off.

_Radek, in order to make sure you don't blow up the city when you try this, you need to remember that the power density in the duct is proportional to the product of electrical conductivity, velocity squared, and magnetic field squared. Therefore, the enthalpy extraction is very sensitive to the input-output fluid conditions. Additional electrical conductivity enhancement also might be needed from thermal ionization of suitable seed materials. I'm sure you can run the simulations and get it working once you have all the equations fleshed out._

Pausing, he grabbed for his coffee cup, draining the cold liquid. He wanted more, but he didn't want to go down to the mess to get it—and he was out of grounds in here. He'd forgotten to grab some this morning before he'd come to his lab.

And people, were the last things he wanted to deal with right now. He hated what he'd done to Radek…to Beckett…Lorne…Teyla…but it was necessary. It would be easier for him to get the job done. No loose ends to tie up. Nothing to regret or worry about. It was just…better this way.

Leaning forward, poised on the edge of his stool, he continued typing after a few more moments as he settled his thoughts back on the task at hand.

_And if you're here for several years and you need to conserve power, rolling blackouts might be the way to go. I've left detailed notes on how to set that up to make sure you can keep the ZPM's powered up for as long as possible. I've also left you notes on some alternative power sources. I know the Arcturus project wasn't exactly a resounding success, but there were several sound principles in the Ancient scientists' notes that I think would give you a good place to start. You might be able to build the next generation of ZPMs if you set your mind to it. And don't, whatever you do, let Kavanaugh get his hands on those notes._

He sighed, trying to stretch out several kinks in his neck, his fingers poised over the keyboard. Another few minutes of this and he'd start his search of the database again. He'd finally got the chance to do some of his own research on the device he'd acquired, only to discover that it was exactly fifty percent short of a fully working appliance. Now, he needed to find out where the Ancients had stashed the rest of it.

***

Hovering a few feet down the corridor, tucked inside a handy alcove, Major Lorne watched and listened.

Honestly, it was hard not to hear the conversation coming out of the small lab, cringing at the tone and the words as the left the physicist's mouth.

"...remember that I'm picking up your slack while you're focused on the other project. Not that I mind, but some of this you should have handled before it was dropped in my lap."

Ouch, Lorne thought, feeling sorry for Doctor Zelenka. He'd watched him enter a few minutes ago and ever since then it had been one cutting comment after another. The next time, thought, the voice wasn't Rodney's. Apparently Doctor Z had had enough. And honestly, Lorne didn't blame him. McKay had been…nearly impossible to be around lately, not that he could blame him after everything.

"On second thought, I do not require your assistance at all in this matter," Radek said, the words tight. "Do not think I will forget this."

A few beats later and Zelenka stormed out of the room, a thunderous expression on his face, heading back down the hallway toward the stairs and the transporter. Once he was sure the other man was gone, Lorne shifted silently, moving across the hall to another alcove where he could watch McKay. It was risky here. If the scientist actually looked, he'd see him in plain sight.

Lorne didn't like what he saw: McKay, his elbows on the table, his head held in his hands, defeat in his posture. This was not the picture of an angry man. It was a man with a terrible weight on his shoulders, a man doing something he really didn't want to do. But every attempt Lorne had made to be friendly, to try and get past the cold shoulder McKay was giving everyone, had ended badly and generally with shouting.

It hadn't left him with many options.

After several minutes, Rodney finally straightened, his hands moving back to the keyboard, his fingers starting to type slowly but picking up speed as he continued.

Lorne stayed where he was for several minutes, just watching and listening. Rodney tended to talk to himself when he worked alone, but unless he was closer it was hard to hear.

Straightening, Lorne moved off silently down the hall, assured that the scientist wasn't going anywhere soon.  He'd stop back later. Knowing McKay, he'd still be here, hunched over the laptops working away.

As he neared the transporter, something gripped his arm, yanking him into an open doorway, hands steadying him until he was back on his feet.

Tilting his head up, he came face to face with a scowling Ronon.

"You're watching McKay."

It wasn't a question so much as a statement, but Lorne felt that he needed to answer. "Yes, I am."

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"There are too many people watching what he does. Why are you?"

"I'm worried about him. He's not himself no matter what anyone else says."

Ronon narrowed his eyes before nodding. "You noticed."

"It's hard not to," Lorne said, glancing around the empty room. He paused in his examination as he realized something else. "You've been watching him too, haven't you?"

The other man shrugged lightly. "As much as I can. Making sure no one does anything."

Lorne's eyes widened. "You actually think someone would do something to him?"

"Stranger things have happened."

Shaking his head, Lorne answered. "I thought things had gotten better."

"Not really. People have just been quieter about it. In my experience, that's when problems happen."

"Well, then, I guess we'll have to make sure nothing does."

"Agreed."

***

The ride in the puddle jumper to the mainland had been quiet both him and Teyla too wrapped up in their own thoughts to engage in conversation.

Once there, she was surrounded by her people, ushered quickly into the crowds and away from where John stood at the ramp of the jumper. He was going to wait for her before he flew back to Atlantis, which meant he had several hours of time on his hands.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stepped down onto the dirt path leading into the village. He could go and observe—Teyla had mentioned that there was some kind of ritual that would be performed—but he wasn't in the mood. And besides, he felt like he was intruding. This was her thing, her people, not his.

But, neither did he want to be alone. It didn't look like he had much choice in the matter, however.

Checking his watch, he moved out, picking a path that wound around the edge of the village, setting a moderate pace. He'd walked this trail before and knew several points where he could turn off and make it a much more strenuous hike if he desired. He didn't want to return in the darkness though, so he was planning to be back at the jumper before nightfall, where he'd get to enjoy an MRE for dinner.

Too bad McKay wasn't here. At least he liked MREs.

And that was really the crux of the matter, wasn't it? McKay.

For such a complex individual that caused even more convoluted problems and situations, everything could be summed up in that one word.

He sighed, catching sight of several birds as they flew through the forest, careening through the tree branches at a speed Sheppard envied. One of them squawked loudly, before emerging from a nearby bush, pursued by two other winged creatures. It looked like they were playing.

He stood watching them for several minutes, their small bodies hurtling thorough the air before they vanished from his sight.

Moving on, his hands pulled from his pockets to swing at his sides, John picked up the pace, not quite a jog, but faster than a meandering walk.

The last time he'd tread this particular path had been with his team, taking this route before heading out to one of the nearby hills for a day of relaxation. It had been a good day, something he hadn't thought about for quite some time. They'd been carefree; their first chance to really relax since they'd come to the Pegasus Galaxy without a constant worry that the Wraith would come.

Pretending to blow up the city gave you that kind of freedom only once.

Skirting past the trail that headed deeper into the forest, John continued his loop around the village, slowing once again when he saw a large group through the trees, his eyes instinctively finding Teyla, her face grief-stricken, yet strong and confident among her people.

Her father would have been proud if he could see her now.

He watched, feeling like the outsider he was, yearning in his own way to be part of a family such as this. Growing up, he'd never had any real kind of community; being an Army brat was difficult in that regard, but he hadn't minded too much. In a way, until he met Teyla, he really didn't know what he'd been missing all those years.

Atlantis, in its own way, provided that community, that family for him, but now things had changed. It was as if the very melody of his life here had somehow gotten off-key.

Why?

It all came back to that one word, that one person, his friend: McKay.

But to be honest, it wasn't just him, but everything certainly centered around the physicist.

The anger John felt, though, was more than at the stupid risk McKay'd taken. Much more.

He'd been so sure, so certain that it was the scientist's fault, but looking back he realized this wasn't the first time the science department had screwed something up. But as soon as McKay had asked, begged, for his trust, it became personal.

And therein lay the real problem.

He felt betrayed, used, like he was just a pawn in the greater game of "Rodney gets what he wants".

And he was still angry.

What would have happened if Rodney had died? That thought was still too close, too fresh, to consider. The thought of life on Atlantis, without his friend, was hard to imagine—and he didn't want to.

Shaking off the thought, he realized belatedly that the light had dropped considerably and the crowd he'd been watching had long since departed for another area in the village. He could hear them just beyond the grove of trees.

Retracing his steps, he reached the jumper a short time later, his stomach rumbling. Yanking out an MRE, he glanced at his watch and settled down to wait.

***

"Doctor Beckett?"

The call broke through his concentration, interrupting his late dinner and startling him enough to jostle his elbow, nearly sending his coffee off the commissary table.

"Beckett here." He glanced at his watch, realizing that he'd been out of the infirmary for twenty minutes and they'd already started with the calls.

"This is Anne, sorry to bother you, but Shelly's fever spiked. We're trying to get it down, but it's not looking good."

Standing swiftly, he grabbed his tray from the table, depositing it near the recycling center knowing someone would take care of it. "Do you have a cool bath ready?"

"We're getting it together now, but we're worried."

"Mix some liquid Tylenol, water, and ice, and give that to her if she'll take it. Open the lines and push fluids. We can't let her get dehydrated. If you haven't already started using cold compresses, do that. Also, start her with five milligrams of Phenobarbital, IV push. I'll be right there."

Clicking off the radio, he turned and ran to the nearest transporter, dodging several people along the way. Breathing heavily by the time he reached the infirmary, Carson could hear the undertone of panic in his nurses' voices.

Damn. And they were so close to a cure.

Rounding a final corner to the small room he'd set aside for Shelly once things had begun progressing a little more rapidly, he quickly got his bearings, watching as Anne Matthews and Penny Cohen stood on either side of the bed, sponging down Shelly's over-heated body with damp washcloths.

"Any change?" he asked, stepping up alongside, his hand grabbing the chart to glance at quickly, noting the last round of her vitals. His lips tightened. It didn't look good.

Anne shook her head. "Since I talked to you, no."

"How is she?"

"Her temp's leveled out at one-oh-three point nine degrees, but it had been up to one-oh-four point three. Pressure is down." Anne didn't pause in her ministrations, gently wiping Shelly's face and neck until the cloth warmed and she turned to dunk it back in the basin on side table, wringing it out before starting again.

Carson snapped his head up, his gaze carefully looking at Shelly. "Is she losing volume somewhere?"

"No," Anne replied. "We've looked."

"Pulse?"

"Down a hair when I checked last."

"Get some epinephrine ready, one milligram. We might need it."

"Doc?" Anne turned, her hand poised over Shelly's arm, the washcloth in her hand.

"Let's just say I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered stepping away from the bed.

He frowned, tugging off his uniform jacket, leaving him in his shirt. He pulled a stethoscope from the nearby table and moved to the bed, shifting Shelly's scrub top so he could listen to her chest. He offered the sweating and barely conscious woman a small smile of encouragement.

"Just relax and let us do the work, luv," he said, listening carefully, his other hand on her wrist monitoring her pulse. He smiled again, trying not to let his worry seep into his expression. Stepping back, he nodded to Anne to continue her sponge bath.

If only the lab hadn't screwed things up this morning, they might have something to give her. The broad-spectrum antibiotics had only slowed it down a little, and it looked like their usefulness had already passed.

He could try a different kind, something else, some other kind of drug, but he didn't know how she'd react and he was hesitant to add anything else.

"Anne," he said quietly, catching his head nurses' attention. "Let's get her hooked up to the heart monitor. I'm worried it might be a bit irregular, but I need to see it."

She nodded, immediately moving to complete the task, her hands moving efficiently, the leads quickly attached, the monitor turned on.

The picture on the screen didn't ease his mind.

***

So much for light duty, Rodney McKay thought, catching a glimpse of the time as he swiveled in his chair reaching for a tool he had placed at the far side of his desk.

He was about finished putting the Ancient device back together, just a few more connections to make, and it would be as good as new—or old, as the case may be. It hadn't taken him long, a few hours each night, to get it in pieces and then reconstruct it, learning the ins and outs.

It was ingenious, really, once you got down to the nuts and bolts of it—crystals, wires, and whatnot.

But, like the rest of the devices they'd brought back, it was only part of the whole. He had the containment unit, the timer, and the actual trigger, but the explosive element, or in this case the contaminant, was missing—developed in yet another lab, apparently.

Which meant more time spent wandering through the Atlantis mainframe after he searched through the information stored on the laptop—his extra laptop—Radek was using. And that meant he either had to talk to the Czech, who was probably still mad about this afternoon's "discussion", or sneak in and go through the information when he wasn't there. The latter seemed like the better option.

A voice over his radio calling his name nearly made his hands twitch which would have fused two wires together, making the entire device useless. He waited a ten-count before answering.

"What?"

"Sorry to bother you, Doctor McKay," replied the sergeant from the control room, the other Canadian whose name he had yet to care enough to remember.

"Well, you are, so get on with it or have you not noticed the time?"

A beat passed before the gate technician continued. "I'm getting some information from the long-range sensors I think you need to see."

"Me? What about Weir or Sheppard?"

"She's retired for the night and Colonel Sheppard has not returned from the mainland as of yet."

"So you feel that it's appropriate to call me at all hours of the night, but not interrupt Elizabeth's beauty sleep? I'm glad I know where your priorities lie—not with the person who can save you from certain disaster at a moment's notice and whose sleep is probably a lot more precious than anyone else's on this base."

"Doctor, if you'd like me to call—"

"Nevermind, I'm up. I'll be there in a few minutes. McKay out."

Cleaning up a few things from off his desk, he closed the finished device, tucking it into the top drawer, careful to make sure it wouldn't move. His tools were tossed into his case, which he closed and deposited next to the door. He'd bring it back to the lab in the morning.

After throwing a critical eye around the room, the desk area cleaned enough to almost match the rest of the spotless room, he moved out into the hallway, grumbling to himself about late-night calls and absent senior staff members.

By the time he'd got to the control room, he'd more or less resigned himself to the fact that he was here already, so he might as well see what had gotten the Canadian's knickers in one hell of a big knot.

"So," he said, climbing the last stair, his eyes fixed on the man that had called him, "what was so all so important that you needed to show it to me immediately?"

"This," he replied, moving over to the console against the far wall. Clicking a few buttons, the screen above quickly came to life—one disturbance on the map.

"Is that what I think it is?" McKay asked after a minute, his hands itching to reach down and play with the data, checking and re-checking to make sure it wasn't a glitch.

"I went over the readings three times before I called you," the Canadian replied. "And it looks like a Hive ship to me."

"That's what I was afraid of."

***

John Sheppard sprinted down the stairs, taking several at once, in his rush to get to Elizabeth's office. Her tense message had come through as he was on final approach to Atlantis, Teyla sitting silently beside him.

Anytime a Hive ship appeared on the long-range sensors, it was a bad thing.

He was speaking as soon as his booted feet crossed the threshold to Elizabeth's office. "So, what else do we know?"

Rodney—looking tired, pale, and drawn—answered, his hands waving, but not as extensively as usual. "Someone was on the ball tonight and informed me that we might be having company in the near future."

John scowled at the seated scientist as Teyla stepped into the room behind him. Ronon shifted silently on his feet from his position on the far side of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. "Something more than that would be helpful."

"Well, yes, of course, but unless you're in the mood to do a little recon and visit the Hive ship and ask where they're going, we don't have a lot of information," McKay snapped, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. "Right now the ship is about three weeks away from Atlantis, but it might not be heading here."

"So, all we know right now is that there is a Hive ship within a few week's travel time of Atlantis," Weir said, her voice level as she tried to display a calm attitude.

"Yes."

Turning back to the scientist, John scrubbed a hand across his face. "We're going to have to let the Daedalus know to avoid whatever path the ship is taking," he said, thinking out loud. "They're due back in a week or so, right?"

"I'll be able to track their path in a few hours," McKay said. "Once the computer gets more data I can make a better approximation as to their course."

Weir nodded, answering instead. "We'll send a compressed databurst in the morning."

"Good. How about the cloak? Can we use it again"?

McKay sighed, his chin tilting upward. "Of course we can use it again, Colonel. It's just a matter of when and for how long. We don't have an unlimited supply of power. Finite resources and all. I'm sure you're familiar with that." There were some days he wished he could get Rodney to stop using that condescending tone; the one where nearly every sentence was punctuated with the words 'you idiot'. Even if it was not actually said out loud, John knew it was exactly what McKay was thinking.

"We might need a recon mission, then," Sheppard said, his jaw tensing, his mind already spiraling ahead.

"Oh, yes, brilliant plan, Colonel," came Rodney's sarcastic reply as the scientist leaned forward, his elbow resting on his knees, his hands hanging between his thighs, gesturing on occasion. "Let's poke at the Wraith ship and make sure they know we're here." A roll of his eyes toward the ceiling completed the comment.

"You have something better to suggest?" John snapped.

"Of course," Rodney said, the words 'you absolute moron' hanging in the air this time. The physicist straightened, weariness passing over his face before it settled back into one of stubborn determination. "I'm going to watch their flight plan and then report back when and where they might be going. If they so much as twitch in this direction I'll let you know."

"Can the Wraith scan us at this distance?" Weir asked, concern lacing her voice. John was annoyed that he hadn't thought of that question first.

"I don't think so. From what we know of Wraith technology, they don't have anywhere near the range the Ancient devices do. Like I said before we started this whole three-ringed circus, you needed to know what the sensors were picking up, but until we know more there's not much we can do, or should do. Let's not prod the oblivious greenish-blue giant."

McKay paused, his eyes glancing between everyone in the room before he stood. "If that's all, I need to look at the sensor logs before I try to get some sleep. Granted, this will probably give me nightmares, but what else can you expect? Not like this is the safest place to live thanks to the life-sucking aliens that are teeming in this galaxy."

Elizabeth glanced around the room and seeing no further questions, nodded. "We'll reconvene once Rodney can go over the sensor logs. I'm hoping this will just be a false alarm." She held everyone's gaze for a moment before pursing her lips and inclining her head once again. "Have a good night."

McKay was the first one out the door, brushing past him and Teyla without so much as a grunt in acknowledgement. John raised an eyebrow toward the retreating scientist's back, but quickly turned to Elizabeth as everyone else slowly filed out of the room. 

"He's in a pleasant mood," John commented, hitching his hip up against the desk, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Who, Rodney?"

John nodded.

Weir shrugged, her eyes dropping to her computer screen. "Seems to be a constant for him lately. A few complaints have filtered in from the science department, but they're the usual suspects."

"Everything quiet otherwise?"

"Apart from the Hive ship, yes. Carson's knee-deep in researching this virus, and until he can come up with some kind of vaccine I'm hesitant to send out any teams. And I think we're going to have some very bored and cooped up personal on our hands very shortly."

"We can probably send some teams to the mainland. Damage is already done," he suggested after a moment. "It might be time to set up some training exercises in any case. Might help to keep everyone's minds off of the possibility of a fatal disease."

Elizabeth nodded. "That's a good idea. You should get started with that in the morning…later this morning." She rubbed a hand across her face, a sheepish expression rising to the surface. "Why do things like this happen when I’m finally falling asleep at a reasonable hour?"

Chuckling, John shoved himself away from the desk, heading to the door. He heard Elizabeth's chair slide back and she was at his side a moment later as they moved to the control room. Nodding to the technicians on duty, they headed down the stairs to the nearest transporter, companionable silence between them.

"You know," John said, his eyes sliding toward Weir as they stepped into the transporter, "you can join one of the teams going to the mainland if you wanted. It might be a nice change of pace, give you the chance to center yourself again."

She shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes, but the muscles along her jaw tightened. When she didn't comment, he let the subject drop. It was too late for debates. He offered her a smile as the doors opened on his level.

"Good night, Elizabeth," he said before turning and walking down the corridor, the promise of his bed and several hours of sleep a welcome siren song for one exhausted soldier.

***

The first thing Rodney did when he woke several later was groan and roll onto his back, shoving the pillow over his face to block out the sunlight.

It was obviously later than he normally slept. It was rare these days that he was able to sleep without waking up in the middle of the night shaking from the remains of a nightmare. At least last night, his body had been too exhausted to dream.

One of the benefits of sleep deprivation, coupled with his recovery from various injuries.

He wanted—needed—coffee, but that required a trip to the commissary.

Lying still for several minutes more, his mind already beginning to move, Rodney realized whatever sleep he was going to get was complete. His mind and body were at odds once again—and his brain was winning.

Groaning as the muscles in his back pulled at his still-healing scars, he rolled to the side, finally shoving his body into an upright position, the blankets falling into a pile, his feet landing with a thud on the cold floor. Shivering in his T-shirt and boxers, he pushed off from the bed, staggering to the bathroom.

About ten minutes later, after one of the quickest showers on record, he was pulling on a new uniform, frowning when he realized it was time to do laundry once again. He'd try to remember to drag it down later today when he got a spare moment—as if that would really happen.

Detouring into his lab, he logged onto the main systems and accessed the sensor logs. Writing a quick program to analyze the data, he set it running and moved to the mess hall. He swore he could smell the coffee as soon as the transporter doors opened.

Aiming for the brewing pots, he filled a mug, dumping sugar and cream into the dark liquid and swallowed nearly the entire cup in one gulp. His second mug he carried with him, snagging a few portable products—a muffin and some fruit—before he turned and headed back to the lab.

After several hours, a trip to Carson to get cleared for normal duties, and several cups of coffee later, his laptop beeped, the program finally reaching a conclusion. Rolling over to the machine, he brought up the windows he needed, his eyes quickly scanning the results, narrowing the longer he read.

Tapping his headset, he waited a beat for the channel to open. "Elizabeth, do you have a moment? We might have a problem."

***

"From what I've been able to extrapolate, the Hive isn't headed to Atlantis," McKay said, hovering over her desk as he stood before her, his left hand tucked behind his back, his right continually in motion.

"That's good news," Elizabeth said, wanting to relax, but the expression on the scientist's face was giving her a bad feeling.

"True," he agreed curtly, nodding sharply. "But, it will come within sensor range of the planet."

"Which means?"

"Which means that any hint—any at all—of our continued presence here might be all they need to come directly to us."

"How close?"

"They'll pass a solar system away, if that. But that's not the bigger problem."

She cringed. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not," he said with a shrug. "If we activate the cloak on the city at the point where we think they can see us on their sensors, and keep it on until they pass by, there is a possibility it might not hold for the entire time."

"We need more power?"

"While more power is always good, that's not the main issue. This whole cloak idea we pulled together was a patch at best. It wasn't designed to stay up for days, maybe as long as a week. I'm worried it might drop all together under the strain."

"Can you fix it?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? That's not like you, Rodney."

His eyes widened at her comment. "While you may think I'm just being modest, you can rest assured that's not the case. The city shield was never meant to be a cloak. Even if I can get another day out of it, it might not be enough."

"Very well," she said, nodding once. "Suggestions?"

"At this point, we can't do much. I'll get a team to work on the cloak. You might want to inform the department heads and tell them we might have to evacuate, just in case."

"Isn't that a little…premature at this point?"

Rodney shrugged, a scowl marking his features. "I said _might_ ,not _had to_. If we can't fix the cloak's stability, I'd strongly recommend it, at least for a few days. The decrease in power expenditure wouldn't hurt either."

"We can't evacuate, not now."

"Why not?"

"We can't risk infecting other planets until Carson can come up with a cure to this virus."

"Virus?" Rodney's forehead furrowed, his eyes narrowing as his the fingers of his right slowed to a stop. "What are you talking about? Why didn't anyone happen to mention something about an infectious alien outbreak to me?"

"Haven’t you been reading any of the email message updates Carson's been sending? This has been going on for a week now."

Red touched his cheeks as his chin rose in the air. "Did you forget I was in the middle of the Ancient devices project, not to mention in the infirmary for days after an explosion in the lab? I’m still catching up on the science department emails."

"No," Elizabeth said, gritting her teeth, "I didn't forget. I assumed you were keeping up to date with all the departmental emails."

"You have seen the amount of spam department heads produce, correct?"

"That's not the point. The emails are designed to keep everyone up-to-date on the projects and issues on this base."

"Yes, yes, yes. And I’m supposed to continue to pull miraculous solutions out of my ass every time there's a problem." He scowled, his arms now crossed over his chest. "I need to get back to my lab and get started on finding yet another way to save the city. As soon as I know more, I'll let you know."

Turning on his heel, Rodney was out the door before she had the chance to reply.

Sighing to herself, she pulled up a blank email message and began typing an update, ignoring the twenty unread messages in her inbox that had popped in during her conversation with McKay. She hated to agree with him, but sometimes she felt as if the department heads just created reports to keep her busy.

Some days she hated her job.

***

Radek Zelenka yanked off his glasses, tossing them on the workbench. They clattered, and for a moment he feared he might have broken them, but they landed in one piece. He rubbed his hands across his face, pushing his palms into his eyes, trying to ease some of the irritation. His eyes, though, were the least of his problems.

Between Rodney and this backwards database, he was about ready to pitch the laptop across the room.

Muttering in Czech, he rose to his feet and stomped down one of the aisles, checking the shelves for the fifth time, coming up with the same result: there were several devices missing.

At least he thought there were.

A rustle near the front of the room pulled him from the depth of the storage room. Figuring it was one of the science team members looking for a new toy, he took his time. But when he finally rounded the corner, he found one loud-mouthed physicist sitting on his stool and scrolling through the database.

"You left this project to me, insist that I take care of it, and yet here you are," he said accusingly, stepping up beside the other man.

"I'm glad to see your powers of observation have not been diminished in any way after spending the last few days holed up in this room staring at the computer screen," McKay replied testily, his eyes never leaving the display, his fingers tapping a few keys as new information scrolled past.

When Rodney didn't continue, Radek sighed, picking up his glasses. He cleaned the lenses with the edge of his shirt before carefully putting them on the bridge of his nose, adjusting their fit until they were comfortable. "You are here, why?"

Radek thought the quick sidelong glance was going to be his only answer, but Rodney spoke up a moment later, his tone somewhat distracted as he continued his search. "I needed to cross-reference something I found in the Atlantis mainframe. It was easier to find it myself instead of asking you to track it down."

Nodding, he squinted at the screen as he read over Rodney's shoulder. "That is not one of the planets where we discovered these devices," he commented, trying to make sense of the fast-moving data.

"I know," Rodney said absently. "But the devices were linked with several other places in the main database. I was hoping to narrow it down."

"You are working on this project?"

Rodney shook his head. "Just something I was thinking about before, but didn't have the chance to look up." He raised his left hand, tracking his finger across the screen. "A lot of these devices have a secondary planet in common."

"Which planet?"

"I don't recognize the coordinates," Rodney said, cutting and pasting the information into the body of an email message. "I'll check them against the database when I get back to my lab."

Shoving back the stool, he stood, moving swiftly to the door and into the hallway. Radek watched him leave, his jaw dropping open as the grey-clad figure vanished around a corner and out of sight. He should be used to the man and his abrupt nature, refusing to explain things when he didn't want to bother with anyone. But some days he just wanted to injure him—badly.

Today was one of those days.

***

John Sheppard rolled his shoulders, trying to remove the ache that had settled there. The first round of training exercises had gone well. It hadn't taken long to pull together enough military personnel this morning. Most had volunteered within the first ten minutes, filling up the two jumpers he'd set aside.

Doctor Weir had been right. Boredom had settled in quickly among the soldiers, especially those who were used to off-world travel on a fairly regular basis. Confinement to the base had been difficult, making them more restless and agitated than usual.

That contained energy, of course, had been released during the exercises, which meant they ended taking it out on each other—and him. He had more bruises than he wanted to think about.

"Ronon," he said, turning around to face the Satedan who was just stepping into the jumper, a slight sheen of sweat on his face, "everyone on board?"

"The last group is coming in now. Clark's limping pretty badly. Looks like Andrews got him good during the last run."

Sheppard rolled his eyes as the ramp slowly rose to its closed position. Groans and the sound of shifting bodies filled the jumper. "That'll teach him to drop his guard."

Clicking his headset, he spoke again. "Lorne, you set?"

"Andrews and Clark are finally here. We're ready. I'll follow you in."

"Acknowledged. Sheppard out." He turned, his gaze washing over the bodies pressed close within the tight confines of the ship. "Make yourselves comfy, folks. Flight time is approximately thirty-six minutes. When we're closer to our final destination, your captain will give you an update on our progress."

Ronon snorted as he leaned back in the co-pilot's chair, but didn't comment further. He'd been quiet recently—quieter than normal that is, John realized absently as the jumper rose into the air. He adjusted the heading and checked to make sure Lorne was on his six. Nodding to himself when the second jumper appeared in his view, he settled back for the ride to Atlantis.

Sending a sidelong glance to Ronon, John wondered what was on his mind. Actually, he speculated about that most of the time. The man was generally unreadable on a good day, but John had thought he'd been getting better at discerning what one look meant from another. It was all in the subtle expression in his eyes, or how high his eyebrow rose compared to other times.

The past few weeks he'd been stonewalled.

"So, enjoy yourself?" he said, offering the proverbial conversational olive branch, wondering if the warrior would take it. With Ronon you never knew.

He grunted noncommittally before verbalizing his comment. "It was fine."

"Fine? Just fine? Sometimes I think you enjoy pounding the marines into the ground."

Ronon shrugged. "It's good to practice, but your men are different than the Wraith, easier to fool."

"Well, if they'd spent the last few years on the run like you did, I imagine they'd be a whole lot better too," he replied, feeling defensive even though Ronon made a good point. Compared to him, none of these men had the same survival skills, or 'kill or be killed' mentality.

"They wouldn’t have survived."

"Oh?" John raised an eyebrow, keeping his tone low enough so it didn't carry into the rear compartment. "And you can make that assumption just from watching my men?"

Ronon nodded. "I've seen others just like them. They may last a day, but it wasn't long before the Wraith caught them."

"My men are trained for these kinds of situations."

"They're getting better," Ronon said.

"That's your observation? They're getting better?"

"Yeah. It's the truth." Ronon paused, his eyebrows descending slightly, his eyes narrowing a little. "When is McKay going to go on missions again?"

John turned away, startled at the question. Thinking back, though, he realized a month had already passed. McKay now had off-world privileges again—not that it did him any good right now. Until Beckett figured out a cure, they were stuck. "As soon as we get the all-clear, I guess."

"You'd let him?"

John shrugged, his eyes on the water skimming quickly beneath the jumper. "Why not?"

He could feel the weight of Ronon's stare, but he refused to turn. The Satedan eventually shifted and it eased.

"Anyone think to tell McKay?"

"I don't know. I'm sure he knows what the date is. Why is this so important?"

"It's nothing."

John sighed. He hated conversations like this. Why couldn't he just say what he was thinking? "It's obviously something if you brought it up."

Ronon shifted again, puling John's attention from the water. "I've been watching him since we've been back. And I'm not the only one. He's different."

"Different?"

"Different."

"You might want to elaborate a little. McKay's always been different."

"Closed off. Harsh. Cutting. Cold. He's pulling away."

John's eyebrow rose at the comments and he didn't say anything for a moment, waiting to see if the other man was going to add anything else. "What you just described sounds almost like normal."

Ronon shrugged, his eyes holding Sheppard's. "Ask Lorne if you don't believe me. He knows." Rising to his feet, he moved to the rear compartment, one of the marines immediately pulling him into their conversation.

John watched him for a moment before turning back to the scene outside. It was going to be a much longer flight home than he originally imagined.

***

Carson Beckett stepped away from Shelly Laurence's bed, dropping the syringe into the sharps box nearby. The last few days had been horrible. She'd coded twice so far and they'd been having problems regulating her fever. It had settled down a little this afternoon thanks to the nearly constant sponge bath.

He just hoped this magic bullet of his worked.

The lab had finally sorted out all the results and discovered the gene that triggered an immune response to the disease in the ATA humans. They'd been able to synthesize it, and they thought it would work—it just hadn’t been tested yet.

He hated doing this, trying things out on humans, but if it didn't work they were going to lose Shelly and that would be even harder to bear.

In a few hours he'd know more. All he had to do now was wait.

***

Doctor Weir looked up from her desk as Brian Whitmore knocked lightly on the doorframe, a tablet PC in his hands.

"Doctor Weir?"

"Brian, you have something for me?" she asked, gesturing him to enter.

"I've finally been able to go through all of the gate logs for the past three months to try and find the source of the illness that struck the Athosians," he said, uncertainty on his face.

"You found something?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "I think I did." He moved toward the desk, leaning over it as he offered the tablet to her. As soon as she took it, he began pointing, taking her step-by-step through the answer. "There have been several off-world trips by the Athosians, but most of them have been to planets where we've been as well, so I had to rule them out immediately—especially since we've been theorizing that the disease began on the mainland and not in Atlantis."

"Yes, Doctor Beckett is nearly one-hundred percent certain that it originated with the Athosians."

"So, that left us three planets," he said, pointing. "One was only two weeks ago, so that one's out, leaving us two."

"How did you narrow it down?"

"It was difficult. After talking to Doctor Beckett about the spread of the disease, I had to cross reference the team members with their location on the mainland. One-and-a-half months ago a team of Athosians went to P8H-391 to trade for grain and other vegetables. They were gone three days and were successful, bringing back several bushels of seed."

"I remember. Teyla was happy about their success and the seed was planted immediately."

"About three weeks later, though, one of the members of that expedition died from complications due to an illness. No one thought much of it: he had been known as someone who was prone to such things."

"And it spread from there."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do we know anything more?"

"No, not really," he said shaking his head. "The planet is supposed to house a rather large market that caters to peoples from all over the galaxy."

"So, it could have come from anywhere?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Could it have been given to the Athosians purposely?"

"We'll never know and there's no way to track it. It's well-known that the Athosians have joined forces with us, so it's possible. But how could someone have known they were going to visit the market on that particular day?"

Weir sighed. "So, it's a dead end."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry." Whit more offered a half-hearted smile as he picked up his tablet. "I can email you the full report if you like."

"Please," she said, nodding. "Thanks for all your hard work. I know it wasn't easy."

"I just wish I had a better answer for you." He smiled again before heading back to his post.

It seemed like they were getting nowhere fast.

***

Rodney McKay grabbed a tray from the side and shuffled through the dinner line. He was late—again—but the commissary was still relatively busy, mostly full of military personnel. It seemed like there was a testosterone convention today and—big surprise—he wasn't invited.

Sighing, he picked up several items—small salad, a side of dressing, the last blue Jell-o, and whatever the mystery meat of the day was—before heading to the coffee. There was something passing as coffee coming out of the pot, but he wasn't in the mood to argue about it. Adding sugar and cream, he headed for one of the tables in the back, half in the dark.

Settling in, he kept his head down, not inviting company even though he'd spotted Major Lorne and Ronon glancing his way. Pulling his PDA from his pocket, he quickly found the information he was looking for, the data he'd pulled from the mainframe before he'd left his lab.

But instead of concentrating on the information in his hand, he found himself listening to the laughter around him, the chatter, the conversation among the soldiers. There was a time when he had that.

He snorted, pushing the food around in his plate. Who was he kidding? He was here to do a job. Nothing less, nothing more.

This afternoon had driven that fact home. He'd visited the infirmary—as Carson had requested—for his final check up after the accident. The doctor had been kind, asking the right questions, his touch gentle as he checked his back, fingers ghosting over the scars.

But through the whole exam, Carson's eyes kept drifting toward the back of the infirmary, back toward the critical care unit where one of his nurses was lying.

At that moment, the tenth time Carson's gaze slid away, Rodney realized whatever attention or comfort the doctor offered him wasn't an isolated incident. Beckett cared about all the patients in the same way, offering the same bedside manner and the same care and concern.

In Carson's eyes, he was nothing special, just another patient—not a friend, just a colleague trapped in a strange and dangerous galaxy fighting an enemy they would never defeat. Anything he'd seen in Carson's hovering, mothering, was nothing more than professional concern.

Friendship was not something Rodney had ever done well and whatever he'd thought he'd managed to find here was obviously something else entirely. He should have known, should have realized. Just because he was in another galaxy didn't mean things would change. Who was he kidding? Only himself, apparently.

Sighing, he dropped his fork, letting it clang against the plate. He pushed the tray away, the food no longer interesting him. Instead, he pulled his PDA closer, squinting to read the scrolling information.

The coordinates he'd found were listed several times in the mainframe, and he'd pulled everything he could find. From the records, it looked like there was another base of sorts on the planet, a secret development center for various chemical agents and weapons. This was exactly what he wanted.

What surprised him more was the recent mission reports that appeared in his data dump. It seems like the planet—code-named M3D-218—had recently been visited by Colonel Sheppard's team. From what he read, they were yet another primitive people, but also friends of Teyla's.

Carson, it seemed, had made a trip there too.

Sighing, he closed the mission reports, flipping back to the planet's overview, beginning with a map listing its placement in the galaxy. It wasn't too far away from Atlantis.

And in the same general area as the Hive ship.

He frowned. This wasn't good.

Shoving away from the table, the chair scrapping against the floor, Rodney hurried out of the commissary, ignoring the stares from the occupants. He could feel them on his back, but if his hunch was correct, they could have a problem.

Once in his lab, he pulled up the program he'd been running in the background, the one tracking the Hive and extrapolating its course and speed. He knew from previous experience that the ship would make several stops along the way, re-fueling on nearby planets.

Pulling up the appropriate file, he checked and cross-checked.

The planet with the warehouse of Ancient technology was the same place Sheppard had visited weeks ago, and the next stop on the Hive ship's path.

Oh no.

***

"So, let me get this straight," John Sheppard said, raising an eyebrow and his voice at McKay as they faced off in Elizabeth's office. "You want to go to a planet that is about ready to be culled by the Wraith to see if the mainframe is right about an Ancient weapons lab?"

"It won't take long to find if it's there. I know what I'm looking for," Rodney replied, his chin in the air, his hands crossed tightly over his chest.

"Okay. You're missing my point. The Wraith are going to be there soon."

"And you're missing mine, Colonel," he snapped.

"Gentlemen," Weir cut in, her cool and level voice breaking through. She glanced between the two of them, her eyes narrowed. "Before we make a decision one way or the other, I need some more information. Rodney, how long until the culling begins?"

"Twelve hours, give or take."

"Are you sure about this lab?"

"Positive," he said, nodding once, sharply. "It's listed in both the Atlantis database and the one that Zelenka downloaded."

"Do you really need what's in it?"

Rodney huffed, rolling his eyes ceiling-ward. "Would I ask for something I didn't need? Of course, I do. It's the second half of most of the Ancient devices Zelenka's researching."

"John," she said, turning to him. "What about the people there? Are they capable of putting forth any kind of resistance?"

Rodney snorted, but didn't comment. "No," Sheppard said. "They're a farming community."

"Do you have enough time to evacuate them?"

"What?"

Weir's eyes hardened. "We just formed a trade alliance with these people. I can't just sit here and watch the Wraith cull their entire civilization when we can help them."

John narrowed his eyes. "You want to evacuate the entire village?"

"Why not? We have the room and I'm certain the Athosians could use a hand with the planting and the harvest."

"Because it's a bad idea."

"Well, I don't think it is" Weir glanced between the two of them, the silence settling between them all for several moments. "We need to do this, John. We need friends and this will certainly help in this regard. And if we're going to have the Wraith our own doorstep, we need any advantage Ancient weaponry can give us. You have a go. And Rodney," she added as Sheppard turned to move out the door, "consider yourself returned to full and active duty."

He was almost near the door, Rodney already a few steps ahead of him, when she spoke again. "One other thing. Teyla and Ronon need to remain on Atlantis."

"What?" Sheppard turned, surprise on his face.

"The virus, John. Until Carson has a cure, we can't send them out. Only those with the ATA gene are immune. Find some others to go with you."

He scowled, but nodded in agreement. He hated going into what could be a bad situation without his team. "I'll grab Lorne and Watson. They both have the gene."

"Sounds good," she said nodding. "Godspeed."

Striding out the door, he tapped his comm., signaling for the two men to get prepped and ready to go ASAP. They needed to leave sooner rather than later.

It seemed they were already running out of time and they hadn't even left yet.

***

"I need at least an hour," Rodney McKay said, walking side-by-side with Sheppard to the nearest transporter, the other man jogging to catch up with him.

"We don't have a lot of time," he snapped, sending a scowl his way.

"I'm painfully aware of the amount of time we have, Colonel, but if you want this done right, I need to get my equipment together. As much as I was hopeful Elizabeth would agree, I didn't think I'd be the one to go."

They paused briefly outside the door before it opened, depositing two scientists before they stepped in.

"Well, surprise, surprise, McKay, but she did." The doors opened on the level to Sheppard's quarters and he stepped out, throwing his last remark over his shoulder as he strode away. "No more than an hour or I leave without you."

The doors closed, cutting off whatever comment he was going to make. It was probably better off, he realized as the transporter deposited him in the science area. This was going to be the longest time he'd spent with the Colonel in weeks and he might as well not piss him off before they left.

After making a quick detour to his lab, he raced down the steps to the main level, his laptop clutched in his hands. Marching into the main lab, he aimed toward Zelenka who, for once, wasn't hiding down in the storage room. "Radek," he said, pointedly ignoring the scowl the scientist sent his way, "I need you to do something for me."

"Oh, now you want something," Zelenka began, his finger pointing at Rodney as he approached, anger rising on his features. "I don't think it is wise for you to be—"

"Radek, just listen to me," he hissed, depositing his laptop on the workbench, opening the lid. "I need you to keep an eye on this program while I'm gone."

"Gone? Gone where? I thought you were confined to base."

Rodney glanced at the other man. "I thought so too, but it looks like I've gotten a new lease on off-world missions—at least for now." Turning back to the computer, he pointed to the screen. "This program is tracking and updating the projected path of the hive ship."

"Hive ship?"

"Zelenka, would you just listen for more than a few seconds at a time. It's important."

"Fine. It would be helpful to tell me about hive ships before I'm told to track one."

"You need to read your email more often," Rodney snapped, his eyes on the computer. "The hive is headed for the planet we're gating to."

"And you think this is a good idea?"

"No, no I don't, but we need to get there first. Focus."

"Sorry. Continue." Radek waved his hand.

"Right now it says that the hive should be there in about twelve hours, but if this changes in any way you have to let Doctor Weir know immediately. We're going to try to evacuate the inhabitants and we need every second of the time we have."

"I understand," he said, nodding even as his forehead furrowed a little. "Then why are you going?"

Rodney sighed. Why couldn’t the man just follow directions without asking fifteen thousand questions? "You know the Ancient devices you're working on?"

Radek nodded.

"This is where they kept the other parts. I have to find it because there might be something we can use to destroy it. Otherwise, we're going to have to keep the cloak up continually for about two weeks."

"But the cloak will not last that long."

"I know. That’s why I have to go."

"Oh." Radek paused, glancing from the screen to Rodney and back. "So why are you still here?"

Rodney resisted the urge to strangle the man, instead moving back toward the door. "If anything changes, you'll let Elizabeth know, right?"

"Yes, yes. Go already." He paused, looking up, a strange expression on his face. "Be careful. I have no desire to have your job."

Rodney nodded once, no words coming to mind. Turning on his heel, he headed out into the hallway, his list of necessary items getting longer with every step.

***

Major Lorne hefted his vest, attempting to shove his arm into one of the holes while trying not to drop his weapon at the same time. When Colonel Sheppard said 'move' in that tone of voice, you did exactly that.

Granted, he'd been in the middle of lunch, but that didn't matter. You didn't ask your commanding officer to "give you a few minutes to finish your sandwich" when he was barking orders.

So, he'd hustled.

He was nearly at the doors of the jumper bay when Sheppard's voice came over the comm. "Lorne?"

"Sir?"

"I need you to go get McKay."

"Sir?"

"He claims to need help with some of his gear," Sheppard said and Lorne swore he could see the other man rolling his eyes as well. "Either that or we have to wait while he makes two trips."

"I'll go, sir. Did he say where he was?"

"Science lab, I think."

"I'll find him. Lorne out."

Making a complete turnaround, Lorne aimed toward the closest transporter, tapping his headset on the way. "Lorne to McKay."

The reply came quickly and with as much annoyance as he thought. "I'm working as fast as I can, Major. You can tell Colonel I-Want-To-Leave-Right-This-Minute I'll be there when I get there. And make sure he doesn’t leave without me."

"He's not leaving. I'm not rushing you. I'm trying to help. Where are you?"

Pausing outside the transport, he waited for the scientist's reply. "Oh, really? My lab. I already have everything I need from the main lab downstairs."

"I'll be there in five. Start packing up."

"I thought you weren't going to rush me."

"Consider it a nudge, McKay. Five minutes."

Clicking off the channel, Lorne fastened his weapon to the front of his tactical vest before stepping into the small compartment. A few moments later and he was on the other side of the city, a few paces from the lab.

You had to love this technology.

He could hear the thumps and thuds coming from the room long before he reached it. Was the scientist tearing it apart to find something?

Rounding the final corner, he came to an abrupt stop at the doorway. Apparently, McKay really was taking the room apart.

"What are you looking for?"

Rodney glanced up from where he was crouched, a scowl on his face, before turning right back to the contents of the cabinet. "Something I need obviously."

"Like?"

McKay sighed deeply, twisting once again to glare at Lorne. "Like a scientific device that will link to the puddle jumper's system to allow me to scan very specifically for cloaking technology."

"You can find cloaked ships?"

"If it gives off an energy signature I can find it, yes. It just takes longer to locate some stuff than others, especially if it's a moving object. Stationary ones are much easier."

"Where did you see it last?"

"Here," he said, his right arm waving about, the gesturing encompassing the entire room—the entire, partially overturned room. McKay turned back to the cabinet, digging in deeper, his voice muffled. "Look, I didn't think I was going to need it right away, and especially not immediately, so I put it away. Somewhere safe."

"Too safe," Lorne said, moving in, stepping around a few piles. He poked at a few things with one finger, moving them less than an inch on the top of the workbench. McKay, of course, heard the small shove.

"Don't touch anything, Major. You and that gene of yours can be dangerous if left unsupervised."

"Thanks, McKay," he said, pulling his hands back, grabbing onto the P90 instead. "I didn't know you cared."

The physicist dragged his head out from the cabinet and closed the door, rising to his feet with a groan. He turned, leaning against the counter. "What?"

"Nothing," Lorne said with a half smile. "Seriously, though, what else were you using the same day? Another laptop? Some other strange alien device?"

A far-away look came into McKay's eyes and then suddenly, his fingers were snapping and he was off, headed directly to a drawer behind the large workbench. He was muttering to himself, words Lorne couldn't catch. Pulling back the drawer, he rummaged around inside and seconds later pulled out the palm-sized device with a smile. "There it is."

"So my suggestion helped?"

"No. I remembered I had another one in the drawer," he replied, absently, his eyes drifting over several of the piles on the floor before finally resting on Lorne. "So, why are you here?"

Lorne closed his eyes briefly and counted to three. Any longer and McKay might actually disappear. When he opened them again, the scientist was standing in the same place, his frown actually deepening. "Are you okay, Major? Do I need to send you to see Carson? Or maybe it's just time for your nap."

"I'm here to help you get all your crap to the jumper."

"Oh. Then, I guess I’m ready," he said, bending down to stuff the device in one of the packs on the floor.

Lorne aimed for the nearest one, McKay's tactical vest and pack from the looks of it, but was quickly ushered away.

"No, no, no. I've got that one. Here," he said, shoving the other one toward him. "Take this and that case."

Lorne rolled his eyes, but complied. Scientists.

***

Rodney McKay, seated behind Sheppard's pilot chair, kept his head down, his hands quickly connecting the various leads and cables to the devices he'd brought to find the energy disturbance below.

Sheppard had parked them in a low orbit figuring it would give the scientist a better overview of the planet, cover more ground. Then, he'd turned around and shot Rodney a look that said 'why haven't you found it yet? I've given you two minutes.' McKay, of course, had scowled back, but kept his mouth shut. No matter how much of a genius he was, it still took time to physically make all the needed connections.

But that didn't make Sheppard stare any less.

After about ten minutes, his nerves were wearing thin. "Watched scientist and all," Rodney commented, sing-songing under his breath.

"What?"

Shaking his head as he made the last connection, his fingers flying over the devices to get them synchronized with the jumper, he offered Sheppard a reply as he turned. "Nothing. Pull up the HUD."

A few seconds and an eye-roll later, the display appeared and Rodney began tweaking the device in his hands, his eyes going back and forth between both as he adjusted the sensors on-board to look for the specific energy signature Radek had used to find the last hidden Ancient weapons lab. All you needed was the key, apparently, and you could get in just about anywhere. That made the Ancients either stupid or lazy. Rodney wasn't sure which. A smug smile found its way to his face a moment later as the screen showed exactly what he wanted.

Two energy disturbances.

What the…?

He glanced back down, checking the values he'd typed in from memory. No, they were right. Yanking out the small hand-held sensor, he double-checked the work Radek had done on that other planet.

No, everything was where it should be, but there was still a problem.

"McKay?"

Rodney's head snapped up, his eyes meeting Lorne's. Apparently it wasn't the first time he'd called his name. "What?"

"Problem?"

"Maybe."

"Care to enlighten us?" Sheppard asked, swiveling in his chair. Major Watson, it seemed, had decided to stay out of the conversation. Way out. He'd actually meandered to the rear of the jumper. In this particular place and time, that was about as far removed as he could get without physically flinging himself from the craft.

"Well," Rodney said, turning on the Colonel, his chin rising as he prepared for an argument, "if you would have done your job right the first time around, we wouldn't be having this conversation now would we?"

"What?"

"Look at the screen," he said, his right arm—hand still holding one of the smaller devices with wires trailing behind—gesturing toward the front of the craft. "There are not one, but two areas under this Ancient cloaking shield. And they weren't exactly a tidy race. The Ancients left their stuff behind on every planet they visited. How you failed to find any trace of Ancient technology when you were here the first time is beyond me."

Sheppard's eyes narrowed. "It's called a diplomatic mission, McKay. We were talking about trading vegetables for some basic medical training and the other niceties we normally give out to primitive agrarian societies. We weren't talking about scientifically advanced hidden alien bases."

"And you continue to miss my point. When has a primitive society actually been one? Does the name Genii ring a bell?"

"Colonel."

The quietly-spoken word actually stopped both men instantly.

Lorne waited a beat before he continued, his eyes shifting between the two of them, his body tense and still. "If you don't mind me pointing out this obvious fact…The clock's ticking."

"Yes, yes, yes, tick, tick, tick goes the clock, Major. Point taken." McKay turned back to the device he was still clutching. "Like I said before, there are two disturbances. We have to check out both of them."

Glancing up, McKay caught the tail-end of Sheppard's nod. "Fine. I'll set down in the middle of the two. Lorne, you're with McKay. I'll take Watson and head to the settlement. The other disturbance isn't far from there."

"Fine," he muttered, turning back to his devices while Lorne and Watson replied with an official 'Yes, sir.'

"Oh, and McKay?"

"What, Colonel?"

"Make sure you have two of those devices to pick up the energy reading."

"Already on it."

"Good."

The words "it's about time you did something right" hung in the air between them. McKay settled back down in his seat, trying to ignore the tension. He had a job to do and he had every intention of getting it right this time.

He had to. There was an entire city riding on him getting this one last thing right.

***

Landing somewhere in the middle of the two energy readings turned out to be more difficult than John Sheppard anticipated. For some reason, he wasn't in the mood to scratch the hell out of the jumper no matter how much McKay glared, his obvious displeasure of walking for any distance etched onto his face.

He finally found a clearing where he could set the jumper without causing too much damage. It was still a distance from the settlement—a good hour, but it was a good hour and a half from the second disturbance. McKay wasn't happy, but it was the best they could do. And, come to think of it, Lorne wasn't looking too pleased either.

"Are you sure we can't just drop you off and then come back for you?" McKay asked, shoving several items into his pack. "You know, just in case anything happens."

"We have ten hours before the Hive gets here. Plenty of time," John said.

"Famous last words," McKay muttered under his breath, the comment pitched just loud enough for everyone in the jumper to hear.

John shot McKay a look that clearly said 'shut up', and for once, the scientist complied—albeit with a scowl that turned into a frown as he continued to dig in his pack.

Lorne, watching from the side, raised an eyebrow at McKay's behavior. "What did you lose?"

"Apart from my sanity?" he commented, glancing toward the Major. "You don't have any PowerBars, do you?"

He nodded, digging into a pocket and pulling out two—both chocolate. "I saw them on the workbench. Figured you wanted them."

"Thank you," McKay breathed, grabbing the offered bars. One he shoved into his pack, the other was quickly unwrapped, half gone with one bite.

Sheppard shook his head as he triggered the release for the rear door, easily sliding by the two men to join Watson who was standing at the back.

"Keep in radio contact. I want to know the minute you find something," he said, turning to Lorne and McKay, waiting for their acknowledgement before he continued. "We don't have a lot of time, so this is a 'get in, get out' type of mission for both of us. As soon as I get to the settlement, I'll send the villagers to the gate. That'll give us enough time to check out what's under that cloak and get back to the jumper. We'll swing by to get you and then get these people to safety. Understood?"

"So that gives us, what, an hour at the base?" McKay commented, his mouth turned down in a scowl. "That's barely enough time."

"It has to be. As it is, I’m not comfortable with the margin of time we have."

"Fine, fine," McKay said, waving his hand absently as Lorne helped him snap his pack into place. The PowerBar, John noted, was already long gone, the wrapper shoved into the side pocket of the bag staying on the jumper.

He glanced around, holding each man's gaze. It was a full minute before he nodded and spoke. "Let's move out."

***

Radek Zelenka twirled around on his lab stool, using his feet to propel him across the expanse in the middle of the room to the table along the opposite wall where he had several experiments running, each of them being cataloged and watched by a different computer workstation.

Some days it was nice to be the boss.

At least he didn't have to hear about Rodney complaining about the misuse of the equipment. It wasn't his fault the programs ate up so much memory in these inferior laptops. He was still trying to convince McKay to get new ones, better ones, but he wouldn't listen to reason. Who knew a scientist like McKay could have an emotional attachment to a specific brand of equipment. One day, Radek swore he was going to bring a Mac in just to see what happened.

The insistent chime from another computer on the other side of the room drew his attention from the data he was examining, jotting down notes for when he re-ran it in a few days.

He craned his neck, trying to figure out which device was complaining, his eyes finally falling on the one Rodney had left with him. What? Had Rodney forgotten about a meeting, the reminder message popping up now? It would be normal.

Sighing, he rolled across the room, sliding to a halt in front of the computer. Touching the screen, it sprung to life, various warnings and dialogue boxes in place of the single window that had been there for the past several hours.

His eyes slowly widened as he read the words they contained, his fingers keying the commands to clear the screen so he could pull up the latest sensor data.

The data didn't lie.

Grabbing the laptop in his hands, he turned for the door and ran.

***

"It's been a rough few days," Carson Beckett said, slumping into the guest chair in Doctor Weir's office, a limp smile on his face, "but it looks like we have a cure."

"You do?" Elizabeth said, glancing up from her computer, her eyes open wide in surprise before a pleased and relieved expression—complete with soft, grateful eyes—replaced it.

"I started Shelly with it this morning and she's already showing signs of improvement. She's not out of the woods just yet, but from her progress I'm very optimistic."

"Carson, that's wonderful. How about the other patients?"

"They've already been given a dose and the lab is manufacturing more. I've started vaccinating everyone who doesn't have the gene, which," he said, rising to his feet as his hand slid into his pocket, "is another reason why I’m here."

He pulled out a small vial and syringe and moved around Weir's desk. "Making house calls, doctor?" she asked, pulling off her jacket so he could have better access to her arm.

"I started with my staff along with Ronon and Teyla and some of the others who we think were first infected. But I wanted to make sure you got an early dose," he said, quickly and efficiently giving her the vaccine before returning to the chair. "Once we have a healthy quantity, we're going to have to send someone to the mainland to give everyone there an injection."

"I agree," Weir said, shrugging her jacket back on, tugging at the hem to adjust it. "I'm sure one of your nurses can handle it."

"Aye, they should. I'll probably send Anne and a few others. They need to get to know the Athosians better in any case."

A shuffle of feet drew their attention to the control room and one Radek Zelenka running full-tilt toward Elizabeth's office. Out of breath, his glasses barely hanging on the tip of his nose, a laptop clutched in his arms.

"We have a problem."

The words, while simple, made Carson's stomach drop.

"What's wrong?" Weir asked, her frame straightening in her chair as the scientist entered the room, dropping the computer on her desk, his hands gesturing wildly to the screen. "Rodney has been running a program, analyzing the data from the sensor logs."

"Yes, I know. That's how he was able to estimate the arrival of the hive ship on M3D-218."

"Yes, but there is new data now; information Rodney did not have."

"Radek, what are you trying to say?" Carson asked, already knowing the answer.

"The Wraith ship is already there. Now."

"I thought we had twelve hours" Weir said, her voice level and calm but he could tell that it was forced and only came out that way through much practice.

"Twelve has become three."

Carson could feel the blood draining from his face. "We have a team on that planet."

Radek turned, nodding solemnly. "We do."

***

"What do you mean you're not going to leave?" John Sheppard stood in front of Soony, the Mazurkian leader, his eyes wide in surprise and disbelief.

"It is simple," Soony said, standing tall, his face calm and confidant. "Our people have survived the past cullings and they will survive once again. Please, you must leave now. You are the ones who are in danger, not us."

"I know for a fact that you don't have any kind of technology to destroy the Wraith—I looked the last time we were here. And, I hate to break it to you, but there's a hive ship on the way and it's not going to pass this planet by."

"We know of the ship."

Sheppard paused, narrowing his eyes at the other man. He was silent for a full minute, finally getting the message Soony was trying to tell him. It should have been obvious from the moment he stepped in the village, but he had been more concerned with what he had to do. There was hardly anyone here. No children playing in the street, no adults in the market. Houses were quiet, no one hanging from the windows or cooking in the kitchen.

When he finally spoke, his words were hard, controlled.

"How do you know?"

"The Oracle told us."

"The Oracle?"

"Yes," Soony said, nodded emphatically, his left hand gesturing toward the woods near the great hall. "Do you wish to see?"

Sheppard exchanged a look with Watson before nodding. The pitch of his voice had lower, slowly approaching a growl. He hated surprises. "Yes. I think that would be a good idea."

As they walked through the silent village, Major Watson stepped up alongside the Mazurkian leader, asking the other pressing question on John's mind. "Sir, where has everyone gone?"

"To the caves, of course," he replied, offering a confused smile. "They have protected us for generations and they shall do so again."

"The caves?" Sheppard asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

"Yes," he answered, his hands gesturing past the village, toward the energy disturbance he still had to investigate. "A short walk from our homes is the entrance to the caves which protect us from the Wraith."

John closed his eyes briefly, wishing they'd had this discussion weeks ago.

"But what happens when the drones on the ground search the village. It's obvious someone lives here. They're bound to find you, especially now since they woke up early."

"There are always some who remain behind," Soony replied smoothly, shrugging his shoulders as if it explained it all. "We do not ask anyone to sacrifice their lives, but some—the sick, the ill, the older who lived a good life—choose this to save the rest."

John wanted to scream at the other man, to tell him that it wasn't right, wasn't fair, but any comments he may have had were cut short as Soony ducked into as nearby thatched hut, Sheppard and Watson following a few paces behind.

In the center of the room was a very Ancient-looking device, the screen glowing red in the darkened interior of the building. Stepping closer, John could make out the information scrolling across, the warning clearly evident even without fluency in Ancient, a timer in the center counting down the seconds and minutes until arrival.

Despite the incongruity of the Ancient device within this primitive room, the timer on the red screen was the most disturbing thing.

And the countdown was seconds from completion.

John turned, his eyes wide and wild. "The Wraith aren't supposed to be here for hours."

Soony tilted his head, looking from the screen to Sheppard's face. "The Oracle claims otherwise and it has never been wrong."

The scream of a dart over the village sealed their fate.

Rushing outside, John tapped his radio, knowing that he might be too far away from the rest of this team, knowing that he was at least an hour from the jumper. They were so screwed.

"McKay, Lorne, we have darts incoming."

He waited, holding his breath, the seconds lengthening into a minute.

"McKay, Lorne, please respond."

He could feel Watson at his side, waiting.

"Damn it, Rodney, answer your goddamned radio!"

Silence was his only reply.

***

Teyla raced into the jumper bay, Ronon on her heels. Captains Kevin Coughlin and Kathy Jansen, along with Major Micah Edison were already present, putting the jumpers through their preflight.

They were going through to the Mazurkian homeworld in an effort to rescue as many people as possible from the Wraith culling, as well as warn Colonel Sheppard of the danger if they were unaware. They'd tried to contact the off-world team, but could not get through. Doctor Weir had been reluctant to send more people to the planet, but after weighing the alternatives, had agreed, reluctantly, to allow two minimally-staffed jumpers to proceed under cloak.

Hopefully they weren't too late.

"Flight, this is Coughlin. We're go for launch," the captain said as they ran on-board, the ramp closing behind them.

A similar statement from Major Edison echoed a few seconds later through the craft's speakers as Teyla settled in the co-pilot's seat.

"Jumper Two, you are go for launch. Good luck and bring our people home safe."

"Thank you, Flight," Coughlin said, his entire body tight and tense as he finished his pre-flight list. A moment later, the jumper was rising and he entered the address for the planet. As they descended into the gateroom, they paused momentarily before accelerating through the wormhole. As soon as they were through, Coughlin activated the cloak.

After a few seconds of nothing they emerged through the gate, the sensors coming alive with data. Darts were in the air, troops on the ground, and no sign of refugees.

Leaning forward, she pressed the button that would allow her to contact the teams on the ground. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Jumper Two, please come in."

She waited, exchanging a long look with Ronon, before leaning in again. "Teyla to Sheppard, please respond." Turning to Coughlin, she pointed toward the village. "There is an area near the settlement in which we can land. Please proceed there."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, angling the jumper to where she'd indicated, the second craft following their lead.

"Where is he?" Ronon asked.

Teyla shook her head. "I do not know."

***

Rodney McKay stumbled for the fifth time, more intent on the device in his hands than on where he put his feet. He grumbled a reply to Lorne who'd caught him—again—before he fell flat on his face in an undignified sprawl, like he did the first time. He could already feel the bruises forming on his shins and elbows where they'd taken the brunt of the fall. Not to mention the contusion he had on his hip from the stupid rock he'd landed on. Who would put a rock like that on a perfectly good walking path was beyond him.

"Do you actually know where you're going?" Major Lorne finally asked, irritation laced into the question. Rodney was surprised he'd lasted this long, since he could tell just from the way the Major was staring at him that he had been wondering about that for quite some time.

"Of course, I do," he replied, turning slightly to show Lorne the screen. He pointed with his left hand. "This is where we are. This is where we're going."

"So we're close," he said after a brief pause, his gaze considering the two points Rodney indicated.

"Yes," he replied, nodding slowing, enunciating. "Yes, we are close."

"Consider it a blessing I haven't asked you 'are we there yet'," Lorne snipped, rolling his eyes.

"Thank God for small favors." McKay paused mid-step, waving the device back and forth before glancing up, more trees and forest and the side of a mountain the only thing he saw. "We should be there."

"Here?"

"Yes, here. Would I have said we were there if I didn't mean here?" Rodney shook his head as he reached back to un-clip his pack. Lorne caught it before it hit the ground. Turning, he bent down, fumbling around inside of it, his fingers searching for the other small device he wanted.

"Digging for gold?"

Instead of replying, he yanked the scanner free of his pack, turning it on with a quick jab to the screen. After a few minutes of checking and double-checking the readings, he nodded. "We're here. I think there should be an opening or something a few feet away," he said, walking a few steps to the left, his eyes on the screen. He nodded a moment later.

"Yes, here."

Lorne unclipped his P90, moving past him and stopping a few feet away as he peered into the forest. "It doesn't look any different. Are you sure it's right?"

"Yes, I'm right. I'm guessing it's able to project an image of the forest to keep people away, but the signature at this location is a bit different than the rest."

"Different as in…"

"Different."

Lorne sighed. "How come no one stumbled across this before?"

McKay shrugged. "Maybe no one's been out this way. Maybe it only allows ATA gene carriers in. Once we go in I can find out for sure."

"I'll check it out first."

"No, no, no," McKay replied, shaking his head emphatically. "I'm going in there. You can stay out here and guard the entrance."

"McKay," Lorne said, narrowing his eyes and taking a few steps toward McKay, forcing him to pace backward accordingly or else be trapped in the other man's personal space—of which the Major was having no issues violating. The next words, however, were said in a concise and serious tone. Rodney knew immediately that there would be no way to change the Major's mind. He wondered absently if the military had a special course for intimidating people. If they did, Lorne and Sheppard were at the top of the class.

"Until I give you the all clear you are not taking one step in that base. Am I clear?"

McKay nodded, his mouth and brain not connecting in order to produce any kind of verbal comeback.

"Good. I'll keep in radio contact and let you know what I find."

Setting his shoulders, Lorne turned and eyed the invisible doorway. Taking a breath, he stepped forward and vanished.

They'd found it.

***

John Sheppard ran through the forest, Major Watson on his heels. They crashed through the undergrowth, sacrificing stealth for speed. Even racing down the same path they'd traveled an hour ago would still take them too long.

Every few minutes he keyed his radio, trying to get McKay or Lorne to answer. He knew they were blowing their cover with the communication and the mad rush through the undergrowth, but he had to get to his team and the jumper was the quickest way. He was kicking himself for leaving the jumper so far away from everything.

"Lorne, McKay, please respond," he huffed, trying hard not to lose his footing as they crossed one of the rockier parts of the trail, where one false step could send him tumbling down the incline on the right.

"…herd please respond."

That was definitely not McKay or Lorne. And what the hell was wrong with their radios? They'd worked fine the last time they were here. Maybe it was something with the Oracle that was disrupting the RF transmissions. What a time to discover a freakin' Ancient device that did wooky things to their communications systems. He'd have to ask the eggheads, but that was as good a guess as any since the active Oracle was the only thing that had changed—as far as he knew.

He glanced over his shoulder, catching Watson's gaze. The other man shrugged, his eyes widening a little.

"Teyla?"

"Colonel Sheppard," she replied, relief evident in her voice. "We have been trying to reach you since we gated through, but are experiencing difficulties with the radio. We need to warn you: the Wraith are here."

"We know," he said through clenched teeth, slowing his pace as he tried to concentrate on the voice in his ear. "Soony has an early warning system. His people are headed for the hills and a nice little bunker the Ancients set up. They're protected."

"Where are you?"

"Trying to get back to the jumper."

"Is that wise?"

"McKay and Lorne are out there, Teyla. They don't know."

"Colonel, there are Wraith on the ground and darts in the air."

"Can you get to them?"

"The jumpers' sensors aren't calibrated," Major Edison broke in. "We don't know what we're looking for."

"Can you find us?" Sheppard asked, finally stopping near the edge of an open clearing.

"We are tracking your signal and will be there in several minutes" Edison replied. "We were flying to the village, hoping to find you there."

"Good. I have a calibrated hand scanner and I think I can point the way." He paused, knowing Elizabeth wouldn't have sent another team without reason. "Why are you here?"

"Doctor Zelenka alerted Doctor Weir as to the change in the hive ship's flight path and projected arrival time," Teyla answered this time. "We were…concerned about you and the Mazurkians."

"How much longer?"

"Right on top of you now, sir." Edison replied, but when John glanced up sky met his gaze.

"Teyla, have Edison land here."

"I shall have Captain Coughlin land," she replied and a brief gust of wind rose in the forest and John knew the jumper was landing. A moment later, Teyla stepped into view, waving them forward.

"Coughlin? Ronon?" he said as soon as he stepped in, his eyes wandering between them. "Where's Edison?"

"In the other jumper. We thought we were evacuating a village, sir," Coughlin said, shrugging as he keyed the rear door to rise once again. "Sir, do you want to take the stick?"

"Yes," John said, striding forward, handing his weapon to Teyla as he slid into the chair Coughlin vacated. A quick glance at the HUD and he scowled. Grabbing the controls, he got the jumper in the air even before everyone was seated. Clicking on the communication system, he radioed the second jumper. "Edison, stick with me. We need to find McKay and Lorne now."

"We're with you, sir," he said, hesitation in his voice. "But I've been scanning the area and I’m only picking up one life sign—and that's still a distance from here. All the rest of the life signs are Wraith."

"We need to get there now."

***

Rodney McKay glanced at the device in his hand, wishing Lorne would hurry. He'd been in there several long minutes already and hadn't been very forthcoming with information. He needed to get in there sooner rather than later.

It was a risk, he knew, but one that was well worth it—but everything hung upon him actually getting into the base. He keyed his radio.

"Major, what's the hold-up?"

"I'm still investigating, McKay. Keep your pants on," he replied, the hushed words hissed.

"Like I'd take them off here," he muttered shaking his head.

"I'll let you know when everything's clear. Lorne out."

McKay rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. It was nice enough outside—not too hot, not too cold—for a puke-green planet. Even the forest was quiet, no pesky rodents racing through the undergrowth scaring the crap out of him.

He turned, moving to go back to his pack to take a last look at the Ancient device while he had a moment, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw several Wraith drones standing in front of him.

They weren't supposed to be here yet. He wasn't ready. Where the hell had they come from?

He reached for his radio, but the lead Wraith was faster, the stunner raised in seconds. McKay's scream ended even before it could begin, as white light flashed over him and the sickly-green sky winked out.

He didn't even feel his body hit the ground.

***

"Sir," Edison said, his voice tight with tension and stress.

"What?" Sheppard snapped, trying to coax a little more speed from the jumper.

"We have several darts approaching the coordinates of the life sign. And I believe the ground troops are already there."

"Can you get through?" Sheppard asked Teyla who was continually broadcasting on several channels.

"Nothing yet."

"Keep trying."

Teyla nodded, her expression carefully neutral. "Doctor McKay, Major Lorne, please respond."

***

Major Lorne moved carefully through the hallway of the Ancient base, his mind comparing what he remembered from the Antarctic outpost and other installations they'd visited in Pegasus. It was all very similar—in style, architecture, and design.

The main corridor through which he entered was long, damp, and cool, ending in a fork. He'd investigated the right one, proceeding along until he reached a small room, the walls covered in screens and consoles.

Not even five minutes into his exploration, McKay was already on the radio asking what was taking so long. After putting him off for a few minutes, he hurried his pace, knowing it wouldn't be much longer until the scientist called again.

Retracing his steps, Lorne headed down the other corridor, this one longer than the first, several rooms and additional hallways branching out.

"…orne…..pond."

He paused mid-step, the static on his radio startling him. But it also didn't sound like McKay.

Tapping his radio unit, he replied, slowing moving back up toward the entrance. "This is Lorne. McKay that you?"

He waited a full minute, before trying again. "McKay? You reading me?"

When he didn't get a reply, he started to run.

***

"Colonel, I'm picking up a faint transmission," Edison said, his voice loud in the jumper speakers.

"Can you boost the signal?" Sheppard asked, his eyes on the HUD and the horizon as he tried to avoid the darts in the area. It was getting harder and harder to do.

"Jansen's working on it. Give her a minute," Edison replied a second before Lorne's voice filled the crafts.

"McKay, this is Lorne, please respond."

John jabbed the transmission button. "Lorne, this is Sheppard. We're approaching from the village. What's happening down there?"

"I've lost contact with McKay."

"There are Wraith in the area, Major."

"They're here?"

"Major," Sheppard growled.

"I'll know more in a minute," Lorne said.

"Sir," Edison said, breaking through. "There's a dart on approach. Wait…make that several darts."

***

Lorne raced through the final section of the Ancient's base, not fully realizing how far he'd gotten from the entrance. He'd apparently been out of touch for longer than he thought.

Turning the final corner, he could see daylight.

Just outside the mouth of the tunnel, he could see the spilled remains of McKay's pack, its valuable contents spread across the ground, the life signs detector only a few inches from McKay's outstretched and unmoving hand.

He nearly sprinted out into the open, but paused when five Wraith drones stepped around the scientist's body, circling it.

A second later a white culling beam whisked them all away.

"McKay!"

The pack and its contents were the only things left behind.

***

"Sir," Edison called out. "All life signs in the coordinates are gone."

"Gone?" Sheppard could feel his stomach freefalling and it had nothing to do with the inertial dampeners.

"Colonel Sheppard." Lorne's voice cut in, defeat laced heavily into its tone. "McKay's gone. Culled. You need to find the dart."

Beside Sheppard, Coughlin was shaking his head, his eyes firmly focused on the sensor screen. "There were four darts in the area that passed overhead. It could be any one of them."

"We can't let it get away," Teyla replied from her perch in one of the chairs.

"You have a one in four shot, sir," Coughlin said, finally glancing up through the front window.

"And we can't shoot it down. We can't take the risk of losing McKay," Sheppard hissed through gritted teeth, his insides clenching tight.

There was nothing they could do.

McKay was gone.

***

"Any news?" Elizabeth Weir turned away from the railing when she heard the question, her eyes meeting Radek's. He'd come up silently behind her, his hands clasped together, misery on his face.

She shook her head. "Nothing yet."

"Shouldn't they have checked in by now?"

"Not if the Wraith were there. They wouldn't risk exposing Atlantis."

"So we wait."

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, we wait."

***

Even though the majority of the Mazurkians were hidden away in the Ancient bunker, the culling lasted two more hours, with dozens of darts scouring the area.

Through it the Atlantis teams sat silently in the jumpers, waiting and watching—it sucked to be so vastly outnumbered, to be unable to do anything except sit and watch and wait.

Lorne had picked up the scattered remains of McKay's pack, shoving everything into place before running for the jumper that had settled down a few feet from the cloaked base entrance.

Major Lorne sighed as he shifted in his seat in the back of the jumper room and thought about the mission that had gone wrong. Badly wrong, horribly wrong, every kind of wrong that was possible or impossible.

He kept picturing McKay lying in that clearing, his body so still, head rolled to the side, face slack with unconsciousness, one arm thrown out to the side, the other curled over his body.

He couldn't get the memory out of his mind as the beam raced through the clearing, everything vanishing in its wake.

McKay had been his responsibility and he'd screwed it up, big time.

"Sir," Edison said, his voice filtering through the jumper's systems as Lorne jumped, not expecting the sound.

"Yeah, Major?" Sheppard replied, straightening up in the chair he'd been slouched in, his hands instantly moving to grip the controls.

"All of the darts have returned to the hive," he reported from his position in high orbit. "It looks like they're preparing to leave."

"Thanks," Sheppard replied, a new weariness in his voice. "Get back down here. Once they go into hyperspace we'll pick up the other jumper. We're heading home."

***

Rodney McKay swore he was dreaming.

He was drifting, his conscious mind finding it difficult to hang onto more than one thought at a time or for anything longer than a few seconds.

But even as he meandered through his own thoughts and memories, hovering somewhere between slumber and wakefulness, he knew there was something wrong.

Pushing himself, he tried to latch onto what he could feel—hands touching his arms, legs, back, and the now-constant gentle pressure over most of his body.

This was wrong, but his mind was having problems figuring out why his gut was so insistent.

He'd been on Atlantis, he thought, forcing his mind to piece together the fleeting memories he could sort through. No, that wasn't right. He'd been on a planet.

The planet was important.

The information taunted him, just out of his reach, hovering at the outskirts of consciousness.

Struggling, he stretched out, finally grasping a piece, the memory of the Ancient device, and its final component, flowing back to him. One thing lead to another, glimpses of past events surging through his mind.

Sheppard piloting the jumper.

Two teams with separate missions.

Finding the source of the energy disturbance.

Lorne ordering him to wait.

The sight of Wraith drones standing in front of him just as everything turned a bright white before descending into darkness.

Gasping, he forced his eyes open, already knowing where he was, the panic beginning to filter through his body.

He was on a Wraith ship, his body already cocooned in some kind of membrane. Trying as hard as he could, he found he couldn't even wiggle a single finger or toe, his body seemingly paralyzed. Propped up against the wall like a discarded sack of potatoes, he tried not to panic as two Wraith lifted him into a nearby compartment, standing him in place before stepping back.

They moved away, dragging another similarly-bound body to the next area over, repeating the process.

As his hold on consciousness slowly faded, he realized several things.

Instead of a quick and painful death, he was going to enjoy a slow and painful death, ending up as a Wraith's snack a few hundred years from now.

After all his careful planning, the device hadn't been completed. He'd managed to fail even before he began; his life wasted on yet another screw up.

His eyes closed of their own volition; his body and mind succumbing once again to the darkness. He'd find peace here for a little while, until full-fledged panic set in when feeding time came.

***

"John," Elizabeth Weir said, trying to raise her voice above the Colonel's, "I can't have you rushing off on what will most likely be a suicide mission on the off chance you'll be able to find Rodney alive and well."

Sheppard scowled, but backed down, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in the briefing room chair.

"But we have to do something," Lorne said, his eyes sliding over to his commanding officer, his tone determined, a hint of desperation tinting the edges. "We can't leave him there."

"I agree, Major Lorne," Teyla said, her quiet confidence filling the room. "We must at least try. He would not do less if it were one of us."

"Teyla, we're most likely talking about a suicide mission. I can't just order—"

"We're volunteering," Sheppard replied, his chair jostling as he let it drop back onto all four legs. His gaze encompassed the entire room. "Look, we know it's a long shot, but we're willing to come up with something. And it wouldn't be the first time we've done something where there was a high probability of it not going well."

A chime interrupted everyone's comments. They all turned as the briefing room door opened. Elizabeth was surprised to see a harried-looking Doctor Zelenka standing there, his body radiating worry and panic.

"I’m sorry to bother, but I believed you needed to see this," he said, stepping into the room, his tablet PC in his arms. He moved quickly to the front of the room, hooking the cable he carried in his hand to the connection on the wall. The screen came to life with information from the long-range sensors.

The image was much different than before.

Weir could feel everyone shifting to lean forward as they examined the screen.

"Please tell me I'm reading this wrong," Sheppard said after a minute of silence.

Zelenka turned toward him, pushing his glasses higher on his nose, his expression serious. "If it appears that the Wraith hive ship has changed course and is now heading toward Atlantis, you are correct."

"But why?" Edison asked, confusion across his face. "We didn't give away our position—"

"We didn't, but they do have McKay," Lorne said, his face grim.

"So they realized where he's from and they're coming to check out the planet, to see if we're still here?" Weir asked, folding her hands in front of her, trying to contain her emotions, her guilt, her worry for Rodney and the fate of the city. Things… should have never come to this.

"Perhaps," Zelenka said.

"How much time do we have until they're here?" Sheppard asked, his eyes squinting as little, still focused on the screen.

"A week, at most. Maybe less," he replied, glancing back and forth between the laptop in his hand and Sheppard. "You have another question?"

The Colonel nodded slowly. From where Elizabeth sat, it looked like an idea was growing in his mind. "Can you calculate the next hyperspace pause?"

"I already have," he replied, the hint of a smile on his lips. "I thought you may ask." His fingers flew over the keyboard and a few beats later the large overhead screen changed. "You can see from this simulation where the hive has stopped and where I believe it will pause once more before it reaches Atlantis."

"So we have one shot at this," Sheppard commented, his mouth set in a thin line.

"One shot at what exactly?" Weir asked, her eyes narrowing at the Colonel.

"At a rescue," he replied, turning back to Zelenka. "How long until the next pause?"

"If they proceed at their current speed and remain on course, three days."

"Then, we have work to do."

***

Carson Beckett glanced up from the reports spread across his desk when he heard a light shuffle outside his open door. He'd been trying to read through them, but it was hard. His mind kept drifting back to what he'd heard before—ages before it seemed. The Wraith had arrived early and there was nothing they could do but sit and wait. He'd tried working, but his attention wasn't as it should be. He was getting tired of reading the same sentence over and over again.

Offering a tense smile he gestured for Elizabeth to enter, waving toward the one empty chair in his office—the rest were covered with various items he never got around to putting away.

One look at her face and he knew something had gone terribly wrong. He'd heard the alarm for the incoming wormhole, but when there was no call for medics, he'd hoped—prayed—everyone was safe. But now…

"Is everything okay, lassie?"

She looked at him carefully before replying. "No," she said, her lips pursed. "No, I don’t think so."

"Did the team find something?"

She shrugged a little, obviously stalling. "You could say that."

He raised an eyebrow, a fluttering in his stomach. She wouldn't be this…hesitant if it were one of the soldiers. It had to be about Rodney. She was trying to break the news to him about his friend carefully.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Rodney was fine. Maybe.

"I’m not gonna like this, am I?"

"No, probably not," she admitted, dropping her gaze to her hands. This time though, he waited her out.

"It's about Rodney." She paused again, guilt and worry flashing across his face before settling back down into the calm mask she wore when people were looking. "I don't know how else to say this, but he was culled."

Carson swore he could feel the blood leave his face at her words. "What? How?" He shook his head, trying to wrap his head around what she'd told him. "What happened?"

"As you know, the Wraith came earlier than we thought and the team was caught on the ground, flatfooted," she grimaced at the word, but kept going, "if you want to use that terminology. Lorne was scouting the Ancient base while McKay waited outside. It was only a few minutes, but that's all it took."

"Oh, Rodney," Carson muttered, closing his eyes against the pain, his head dropping to his hands. Culled. In a way that was worse than dead because the pain and terror could last for years. When he finally glanced up once again, a few beats later, Elizabeth's eyes were kind, understanding.

"I thought you should know. I know you considered him a friend and I didn't want you to hear this through the rumor mill," she finally said, tone hushed.

He nodded, feeling shell-shocked. "Thank you. Are we…is there anything we can do?"

She shrugged slightly. "Sheppard has part of a plan but…" She shrugged. "It's a long shot at best."

"Aye."

"But, if there's a way, any way, we'll find it," she said, her voice strengthening, almost sounding like she meant it.

"I appreciate that, Elizabeth." Carson nodded as she rose to her feet. "You'll let me know?"

"Of course," she said without turning around, but he could tell by the curve of her shoulders and her nearly silent walk that in her mind Rodney was already dead and gone. And he couldn't blame her. There was rarely, if ever, a return from a culling and Carson could never picture Rodney as a Runner.

Putting his head back in his hands, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about what his friend might be going through, what might have already happened.

Rodney deserved more than this kind of end. He deserved to go out fighting, with a bang as it were. It was almost insulting for a man such as him, who lived life loudly, to go out with a whimper as he became just another meal for the Wraith.

But then, life was never fair.

***

Trudging down the corridor, McKay's pack hanging limply from the end of his arm, Major Lorne turned a corner and the science labs came into view.

He was tired, worn out, but he wanted to make sure McKay's pack got into the right hands before he buried himself in the bottle of hooch he still had as a welcome present from Doctor Zelenka.

Stepping into the normally-busy labs, he was surprised to see them nearly deserted and silent. He spotted two scientists toward the rear of the large room and Zelenka at his usual station, but the mood was somber.

He shook his head. For a group of people who were nearly spitting on the ground McKay walked on the past four weeks, now they found it in their hearts to forgive him. Unless it was a sober reality check of how close they all were to death.

Scowling at the thought, he moved cautiously in the room, headed for the Czech who was studiously studying his laptop screen, his hands unmoving on either side of the device. Lorne doubted there was actual work going on. If McKay were here, he'd have a fit.

But then, that's why Lorne was here, wasn't it?

Not everyday could he screw up so well by losing the base's chief science officer to a Wraith culling beam. That took a special kind of person.

"Doctor Z?" he asked, pausing finally beside the scientist, his voice hushed.

The other man turned slowly. "Major Lorne," he finally said, his eyes a little less alive than they'd been a few hours ago. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Actually," he replied, setting the pack down lightly on the desk beside Zelenka's computer, "you probably should do something with this."

"And this is?" he asked, his forehead furrowing as he leaned the bag over, peering inside.

"McKay's."

"Oh." A full minute passed before the Czech continued. "Yes, I should…"

His words trailed off as he released a long breath before he began to sort through the pack, laying everything on the desk as he pulled them free, the tablet PC taking up the most room.

For some reason, Lorne couldn't move, watching as Zelenka sorted everything, pulling bits of grass and leaves from some of the pieces, tossing them in the small garbage next to his workbench.

The scientist paused as he pulled out one device, something of Ancient design. "Problem?" Lorne asked when Zelenka turned to his computer, the fingers of his right hand flying over the keys.

"I'm not sure," he replied absently, his gaze shifting between the screen and the item in his left hand.

"I don't think Rodney actually did anything with that when he was on the planet," Lorne admitted, leaning closer to get a better look. "I don't remember seeing it at all."

"I do not recognize this piece of technology," the other man finally admitted when his fingers stopped typing. "It is not in the main database."

"So where did McKay get it from? He didn't just find it in the middle of the forest."

"I'm not sure," Zelenka replied, rising slowly to his feet, "but I might be able to find out." He moved to the door, pausing to glance over his shoulder. "Coming, Major?"

***

Ten minutes later, after several searches of the Atlantis mainframe and an investigation of the database they'd downloaded from the Ancient base, Radek finally had his answer—and he didn't like it.

With Lorne at his side, he marched down the aisle, his fingers stopping on the edge of the empty shelf. He could feel the gluey residue from the double-sided tape and knew the device had been cataloged and stored here just as the data told him.

But Rodney had removed it from the shelf, wiping out any trace of it until Zelenka looked deep enough into the database, finding cross-references to the item he held in his hands.

"So?" Major Lorne asked as he moved back to the computer, following Radek's steps. "Do you know what it is?"

"No, not entirely," he replied, holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers. "Pass Rodney's tablet. Perhaps there is information stored on there."

Several minutes later, he had to admit defeat. While the contents of the tablet were completely available to him, there was nothing specifically referencing the Ancient device. The only information the tablet contained was geared to the new base on M3D-218, including specific locations within the network of passages and rooms. But again, there was nothing to indicate why Rodney had that information.

The physicist had been looking for something specific, that much was certain. But the answers to 'what' and 'why' were still eluding him.

"Is there anywhere else you can look?" Lorne finally asked, one hip leaning against the workbench.

"Perhaps," he replied, opening one of the drawers to dig out some tools. "It may, however, require some breaking and entering."

Lorne's eyebrow rose at this comment, but he didn't protest. "McKay's lab or quarters?"

"Let's try the lab first."

The Major nodded, the muscles of his jaw tight. "Fine. Let's go."

***

When the computers—and cabinets, PDAs, desk drawers, and shelves—in McKay's lab yielded no results, Lorne followed Zelenka to McKay's quarters, uneasiness settling over him like a thick, suffocating blanket. Rodney didn't do things randomly. It just wasn't in his make-up. Everything he did had a purpose, an aim, a final, tangible result.

This device, though, and its presence in the pack, had no outward explanation apart from the obvious—Rodney thought it was important, or could be important. So, that left them sifting through all of McKay's belongings, which made them—or at least Lorne—feel like they were treading on holy ground; that they were violating something sacred. They were peering into places where no one—save the man himself—ventured.

"Do you even know what you're looking for?" Lorne asked as they stepped out of the transporter nearest McKay's quarters. It was quiet, the corridors empty. They moved off with a purposeful stride, as if it might give them a special dispensation for snooping.

Zelenka shrugged noncommittally at the question, his hand wavering in the air in an aborted, half-gesture. "I will know it when I find it."

"That's certainly reassuring." Lorne rolled his eyes, adjusting his grip on the Ancient device he was still carrying. Zelenka had asked him to hold it back in the storage room and had yet to ask for it back. Apparently, the scientist wasn't worried about him accidentally breaking it. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad. "And you plan to get past the lock, how?"

"Well, if you cannot get it to disengage, I shall use a different sort of persuasion," he replied, holding up the small package of tools in his hand.

Lorne chuckled, shaking his head, thoroughly amused at the Czech. "I’m sure that will do the trick."

"No trick," he said, offering a tired smile in return. "While Rodney can use thoughts to open doors, I use hands. Different tools, same outcome." Zelenka paused and raised an eyebrow in Lorne's direction. "You, though, have additional choice: C4."

Lorne raised his own eyebrow in response and shook his head as they turned the last corner. About two feet from their destination, however, the doors to McKay's quarters parted with a hushed swoosh.

They stopped, nearly in the center of the hallway, and exchanged a long look. After several beats of silence, Lorne finally asked, "So, was that supposed to happen?"

Zelenka shook his head. "If you did not ask it to open, then no."

Another minute passed before they finally ventured inside, the door closing behind them. Hovering near the entrance, it was as if neither of them knew what to do next. Lorne had never been in here without Rodney present and unless Radek had to retrieve something, Lorne doubted the other man had any reason to have come here alone before either.

The scientist sighed deeply, shifting on his feet before he moved toward the desk and the solitary laptop.

Lorne's eyes, however, continued to wander around the room, widening with each passing second.

There was nothing out of place.

Walking slowly around the room, Lorne was surprised at how neat and orderly everything was—even down to the books stacked on the shelf. Peering into the closet, he found the shoes perfectly aligned, clothes on hangers, the hamper on the side holding a day's worth of clothes—if that.

Not that he'd been here often, but the sheer orderliness of the room was setting him on edge. McKay, while organized, was generally not this studious in up-keeping his quarters—at least as far as Lorne remembered when he was in and out of them over the course of a week.

He glanced toward the other man, now firmly seated at Rodney's desk, his fingers taping on the edge as the machine booted up.

Setting his mouth in a thin line, he continued his circuit, pausing at the bedside table to pick up the science journal sitting on the edge, and thumbing through it. Catching writing on several dog-eared pages he turned it—first one way and then the other—so he could read the notes, nearly laughing out loud. It was one thing for the physicist to yell at people in person, it was another to read his rants in the margins of a magazine.

He wasn't surprised to see the word 'idiot' appear several times. Actually, he was more surprised to see some other, more personal insults, scattered throughout the pages.

But it was Zelenka's sharply in-drawn breath that made him glance up, his eyes narrowing as he turned to the other man.

"Major," Radek said, his voice strangely quiet, a hint of emotion laced within it, "you may wish to come here."

"Doctor Z, what's the problem?" he asked, dropping the magazine on the bed as he circled around it, stopping behind the seated Czech. Leaning down, one hand braced on the desk, he began to read, stopping immediately. "Is that what I think it is?"

Radek nodded slowly. "I believe so."

"But it's addressed to you."

"I know."

"The door opened for you too."

"I know."

"He was expecting you to be here."

"Yes."

Lorne frowned. "Are you going to read it?"

Radek turned, his eyes finally meeting Lorne's. "If you are quiet for longer than a few seconds, yes."

As the scientist turned back to the laptop, Lorne focused on the word processing document, his mind automatically reading it with Rodney's tone and intonation.

_Radek,_

_If you're reading this, you are obviously in my quarters and messing with my laptop, but that's probably because I didn't make it back from the last mission and am presumed missing and/or dead. I'm also assuming you didn't have any problem logging into the laptop with the password I'd given you in case of emergencies. Now, you'll find it has given you access to all of my files, instead of just the few projects you needed to oversee while I am off-world._

_There were a few housekeeping items I wanted to go over with you before you start poking around the hard drive—which is why this note appeared first. I figured you wouldn't just minimize the file and start looking for what you came for—unlike some other people I know. Besides, you're probably the only one I trust with the data on this laptop. Also, you're probably the only one who understands most of it._

_Don't let that go to your head._

_Now the information._

_You'll find all of my current files, projects, and experiments up-to-date and in the "Current Projects" folder. I've written up all of the procedures and my notes for everything I was working on. Within each file, you will also find additional information about future applications or what other research is required before the project can be completed._

_All the science department reports have been reviewed up until the morning before the mission. I've marked up all of them—as usual—and left copies of everything in a folder titled "Reports". The "Index" file within will give you an overview of all the projects currently active within the department, as well as some of the pending projects I've green-lighted for future study. They have been prioritized based upon the current level of Wraith activity in the area. Less Wraith equals more time for long-term research._

_The "Future Projects" folder contains various notes and ideas for projects to help you run the city more efficiently in the years to come, from maximizing resources within the city and on the mainland to extending the life of the ZPM and possibly re-charging some of the duds we've managed to uncover. Even the crazy hydroponics idea the botanists had is included. Hey, who wants to live on fava beans alone?_

_I guess most of it is pretty self explanatory, actually. You know about most of the projects already._

_So, why am I writing this again?_

_Oh, yes, I guess more than anything, I'd like you to talk to my sister when you get back to Earth. While Carson is probably a better choice, knowing the man he probably will accidentally spill something. Jeannie can be intimidating when she wants to be. And, in any case, you know the story: I died saving children._

_Honestly, I hope my recent actions have helped to give everyone at Atlantis a little more time to prepare for the next big crisis—because we all know it's coming. This should make it later, rather than sooner._

_So long, Radek. Watch over my city for me._

_Rodney McKay_

When Lorne finally finished reading through the note—twice—he moved to the bed, dropping down, his limbs seeming to gain several hundred pounds. Radek seemed similarly shell-shocked.

It was the voice over the intercom that made both men jump, the city-wide page for Zelenka breaking through the thick silence.

He tapped his headset, clearing his throat before he replied. "Radek here."

He listened for a moment before replying. "I was in the middle of something, Doctor Weir. But—"

He paused, waiting for Elizabeth to finish.

"I understand, however, some information has come to light which I believe you need to see. Actually, all the senior staff, as well as Ronon and Teyla. I do not wish to go through this more than once."

He nodded a beat later, catching Lorne's eye. "Fifteen minutes in the conference room. I shall be there. Zelenka out."

Tapping his radio off, he sighed. "They are not going to like this."

"And we did?" Lorne asked, rising to his feet, moving to grab the laptop, but stopped at the shake of the scientist's head.

"I'll bring it, but first, let me send this document to the senior staff and give them time to read it. And then, I need to find information on the Ancient device. I am certain they will have questions"

Lorne nodded. "Right, but you have to move. Clock's ticking."

Calling up the email program, Radek nodded. "This is not exactly the last email Rodney meant to send I do not think."

***

Carson Beckett glanced up at his computer when it beeped at him indicating the second incoming message within a minute. He was trying to finish his report on the virus, but he'd been distracted by the other events going on around him.

He was surprised to see the email was from Rodney.

Opening it, he read the introductory comment from Radek.

_All-_

_You may wish to read this before we meet. I believe it is self-explanatory._

_RZ_

Carson shifted in his chair, nervousness threatening to choke him. His eyes flicked up the window, looking to see who else was copied on the message and then he began to read.

At first he thought it was a joke, but the further along he got the more chilling it became.

Oh. Dear. God.

***

Elizabeth Weir walked toward the conference room, her PDA in her hand. Only moments ago she'd sent the meeting request and her wireless device had already downloaded a new mail message.

Checking the screen, she noted the sender and her eyebrow rose. Was this some kind of a joke? She clicked a button, pulling up the message as she moved into the conference room, her feet instinctively taking her to her chair.

Her eyes widened and she drew in her breath sharply, collapsing into her seat, both hands wrapped around the PDA.

Her eyes moved quickly through the email, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. Tapping her radio, she cleared her throat before speaking. "Weir to Sheppard."

A moment later he replied, his tone distracted. "Yes, Elizabeth? I'm not going to forget about the meeting you told me about two minutes ago."

"No, John. You need to get to your email. It's important."

"Elizabeth, are you okay?"

She paused, considering how truthfully she should answer his question, and decided on the simple truth. "No, John. No, I'm not. Check your email before you come to the meeting."

"Okay…" he said. "I'll be there in ten. Sheppard out."

Scrolling back to the top, she began to read again, this time slowly, as she tried to come to grips with what was before her.

With her heart in her throat, she continued reading.

***

Shaking his head, John Sheppard turned toward his quarters, knowing that was the closest computer. Elizabeth had sounded weird, and he didn't like that. He'd spent the past few hours with Ronon and Teyla trying to come up with a plan to get into the hive. They'd finally come up with something, but there were so many variables.

But he had to do something.

Tapping his radio, he spoke. "Ronon?"

"Here, Sheppard."

"Teyla still with you?"

"Yeah, we were heading to the conference room for the meeting."

"Elizabeth wanted me to take a look at something in email before-hand. You might want to get to a computer."

A groan echoed over the line.

"I know you don't like them, but they're necessary. Weir said it was important."

"We shall. Teyla out."

John signed off as he entered his quarters, heading for his laptop. He'd left it running so it was just a matter of opening his email.

Sure enough there were several new messages including one from Elizabeth and one from Rodney.

Scowling, he clicked on the second message, his frown only deepening as he read. Surprise, anger, and hurt rushed through him as he continued to read.

Forcing himself away from the desk as he read the final salutation, John stormed to the other side of the room, pushing his hands through his hair as he tried to pull his wildly, flailing emotions into some modicum of control. No wonder Elizabeth had sounded off. This kind of email would do that to you.

Stalking back across the room, he slammed the laptop closed and headed for the door, his long strides eating up the floor.

What the hell had Rodney been thinking? What had been going on in that genius head of his? Unless this rescue operation worked—and he'd be damned if it wasn't going to—they'd never get the chance to find out.

***

Radek Zelenka walked through the halls of Atlantis to the conference room, Major Lorne at his side.

They'd been silent even since they left Rodney's quarters, each lost in their own thoughts. Radek carried the laptop, which had turned out to be a cornucopia of information—even more than they'd originally thought.

The idiot physicist needed to be rescued from the hive ship so Radek could pound some common sense into his thick skull.

He could feel the Major sending him several long looks, but he ignored them. He wasn't sure what he was going to say and he needed these few minutes to figure it out.

What had Rodney been thinking?

Gah! As soon as they found him alive and well, Radek was going to kill him.

***

Major Lorne took at seat next to the jumpy Czech once they got to the conference room, exchanging a brief greeting with Doctors Weir and Beckett. While Weir looked sick, Carson was practically grey, with hands clasped together on top of the table. Lorne guessed that was the only thing stopping them from shaking.

Sheppard stormed in a few seconds later, his face a cold mask of determination. "I’m not taking no for an answer, Elizabeth," he started, even before he found his seat.

"John, let's wait for the rest of the group," she replied, her normally level voice shaky, clearly demonstrating her frame of mind.

He opened his mouth to respond, but Ronon beat him to it, anger in his every movement in an every word as the strode into the conference room, Teyla close on his heels. "How could he do this?" he asked, a sheet of paper crunched up in his tightly-held fist.

Teyla settled herself at the table, worry and sadness evident in her eyes and body. Ronon refused to sit, instead choosing to pace in the space behind Carson's and Teyla's chairs.

They'd all left Rodney's seat empty. Out of respect or habit, Lorne wasn't sure. He was leaning toward the latter, however.

Doctor Weir cleared her throat, cutting off any answer to Ronon's question, all eyes turning to her as she pressed the button to close the conference room doors.

"I see you all have had the chance to read the email Doctor Zelenka forwarded to us," she paused, nodding toward the scientist. "I know for myself that I'm…disturbed and distressed to read such a document. Honestly, I never thought Rodney of all people would do anything like this."

"Actually, Elizabeth, I'm not sure I was surprised," Carson cut in, his eyes firmly focused on his hands. Even though he could probably feel everyone's stares he refused to glance up. "Hurt and angry, yes, certainly. I had hoped things wouldn't get away from us like they did."

"What do you mean?" Sheppard asked, turning sharply to glare at the Doctor, surprise and anger in his voice. "Are you trying to tell me that a member of my team is prone to suicidal behavior and no one thought it was prudent to inform me of this?"

"Prudent? Your team?" The Scott's eyes finally lifted, fire aimed across the table as his voice rose. "All of a sudden you're claiming Rodney as part of your team—"

"He's always been a part of my team."

"Until four weeks ago, I'd have to agree with you, but where have you been since then? Answer me that, Colonel."

"What are you trying to say? That I drove him to this?" Sheppard's eyes were wide and Lorne swore he could see steam exiting his senior officer's ears.

"I'm sayin' that your attitude toward him the last several weeks had an influence on his decisions."

"But he seemed fine," Weir said, her voice weary and resigned. "He was working. Nothing seemed wrong, or off with him."

"Aye, he did, until you looked close. I have to admit I did not pay attention as closely as I should have, knowing Rodney's personality. He's not the type to take failure well. For him to lose our trust, or even the appearance of it, would have been the final blow."

"What do you mean, Carson?" Weir asked, puzzlement on her face. "Could we have prevented this?"

He shrugged, his eyes drifting down.

"I believe Doctor Beckett is…concerned about your own feelings in this matter," Teyla spoke up, her voice quiet, sober. "Though he did not say a word to me, I could see in what he did not utter that he was worried about how Doctor McKay's…punishment after the events at Doranda would affect him." She paused, her lips thinning as she considered her words. "I believe the actions taken were unnecessary and excessive."

Sheppard shook his head as he rose from his seat anger and frustration pulsing through his lean frame. "Rodney's an adult and is well aware that with every action comes a consequence. We did what we had to do."

"But did you even think to temper your discipline with mercy?" Carson demanded, his blue eyes filled with his own anger. "Instead of taking the time to think things through you acted immediately and in anger."

"An example had to be set—"

"Aye, it did. I agree, but what you did…" Carson trailed off, shaking his head, as he physically tried to reign in his ire. "What you did demeaned Rodney. It did not teach him anything. Instead, it only told him that he's good for the city only when he can come up with some plan to save it. When he makes a mistake—and God, does he know how to make big ones—that's when he needs his friends the most, to help him move past it. What kind of friends and colleagues have we been lately to him? I hate to admit it, but with everything going on, he was the last thing on my mind."

"So, this all is because of us?" Sheppard asked, gesturing between him and Weir who had grown substantially paler through the proceedings.

"It is because of all of us," Zelenka said quietly, pulling his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "For better or worse, your men follow your lead, Colonel. And the civilians take their lead from you Doctor Weir. We are all to blame."

"This is…ridiculous," Sheppard said, crossing his arms over his chest, turning his head away.

"Actually, sir," Lorne said, shifting in his chair, "it's not. You assigned me to guard Doctor McKay when this all started and I've been keeping an eye on him ever since." He glanced around the room, unnerved a little at the attention. "I thought he needed someone on his side since it was plainly obvious that no one else was."

He held his hand up, forestalling the arguments he saw forming from several people. "Please, hear me out. While I am shocked that this happened, I'm not overly surprised. Doctor McKay had been increasingly reclusive and temperamental over the past four weeks, and I know he wasn't getting enough sleep or eating properly. He always said he was busy when I called him on it, but now I’m not so sure. The scientists, the civilians, and the military personnel on good days treated him as if he didn't exist and on bad days made his life a living hell.

"And, I think the accident in the lab was the final straw."

"Major?" Carson prompted after he'd fallen silent for a long moment.

"After you released him from the infirmary, I followed him to the lab. Somehow I knew that's where he was going to go first." Lorne shrugged. "It's what I would have done. But when he was there, looking at the damage, something about him…in him…shifted. I don't know what exactly, but it was as if he'd finally made a decision about what was to come next." Lorne glanced down, focusing on his hands and fingers and the bloody corner of his cuticle where he'd picked at it until it bled.

Weir finally broke the thick silence, clearing her throat, but her voice was still unsteady. "I think we all might have to answer for this in our own way, but this leads me to one question: how do we plan on getting him home?"

"I have an idea about that, Doctor Weir," Zelenka said, raising a hand as his other one typed on the laptop. "Actually, it's Rodney's idea."

"McKay's idea didn't end so well," Ronon commented, finally sitting down at the table, resting his weight on his elbows.

"He wasn't able to finish before he was culled. He had been hoping that he'd have time to find the last piece he needed," Radek said, connecting a cord from the laptop to the overhead screen. "He was completing something the Ancients began."

"Haven't we seen this before?" John commented, standing with his arms over his chest. "I know how this particular scene ends."

"No, Colonel," Radek said, turning. "This is entirely different. This worked. The Ancients used it."

"So why did they stop if it was effective?" Weir asked.

"Two reasons: not enough time to produce the final component to the device—which Rodney was looking for. Secondly, the cost was too high. From the notes I've skimmed through, the Ancient's couldn't afford to lose any more people. The device had to be delivered in person and the courier—or couriers as the case usually was—many times did not have the ability to remove themselves from the hive ship before it was destroyed."

"Those are two very good reasons, Doctor Zelenka. Why do you think this might work in our favor?"

"From what I understand, the Ancients were relying on cullings to get the device onto the hive and at the end, when they finally had it available as a weapon, they did not use the jumpers in offensive battles. They needed them for defense of Atlantis and other key installations. They didn't have any to spare."

"So you're saying we use the jumper," Lorne said, following the scientist's line of thought.

"Yes," he replied, nodding. "We need to complete the device, which means going back and retrieving the other component from M3D-218. Rodney had the exact location within the base on his tablet."

"And then?" Sheppard asked, scowling.

"And then once it's completed we fly the cloaked jumper into the hive, rescue Rodney, place the charge, and leave. It will do the rest for us."

"That simple, eh?" the Colonel commented, but didn't argue.

"Radek," Carson began, his voice hesitant. "What exactly is this weapon?"

"A virus."

"It's a bio-weapon?" Lorne swore Weir's eyes couldn't get any bigger.

"Actually, it is a nano-virus programmed to only affect Wraith systems. Since most of their technology is based on living components, this weapon will be most effective. And from what I can tell, the last sample is on the base. We only have one opportunity to attempt this." Zelenka aimed his final look at Weir, holding her gaze as he waited for her approval or dismissal.

A full minute of silence passed before she responded. Her lips set in a thin line, she nodded sharply. "I don't see any other options. Let's do this."

***

It wasn't long before the rumors flew though the base. Atlantis was a small, closed community. It would have been odd for nothing to be said.

It started as whispers in dark corridors, two figures in hushed conversation. Those two quickly became four and multiplied into eight, growing exponentially with every passing moment. Small groups led to larger ones, where opinions were shared—sometimes loudly—and fought for.

But through it all, one thing was clear. While many did not think Rodney had had it in him to sacrifice himself in this regard, they were thankful, grateful, that he had. While they viewed him as an arrogant ass, at least he had attempted to use his genius to save them—albeit temporarily.

Granted, as soon as they heard the Hive was on its way, things changed once again. Instead of sacrificing himself for the greater number, now he'd only managed to bring the Wraith down on them sooner rather than later.

First he was a martyr and a hero, but now he was the bringer of their destruction.

From the conversations in the mess hall to the ones in the corridors, each and every time he heard praise for Rodney's actions and then intense criticism, his anger continued to blaze brighter and stronger.

Because each time he heard those conversations was just another reminder that he'd failed in his job as a team leader and friend. Never should McKay, a civilian, have been placed in such a position.

But it had happened, and he needed to—wanted to—know why.

It took him several hours to track down Lorne. He needed a full explanation of what had transpired over the past four weeks and it seemed like the Major was the only one who knew something was going on with their resident genius—and hadn't mentioned a thing.

He'd tried the obvious places first—Lorne's quarters, the mess, the control room—but no one had seen him since the meeting. Technically, he was off-duty and Sheppard's questions could wait until morning—they had plenty of time to talk until the hive stopped for its hyperspace pause.

But, he needed to do this now.

Tapping his radio, Sheppard waited a moment for the channel to open before he spoke. "Sheppard to Lorne."

He was about ready to try again when the response came, the Major's voice tight. "Lorne here. What can I do for you, sir?"

"We need to talk."

"Sir?"

"Where are you?"

There was a long pause before Lorne answered and Sheppard knew the man was fighting to remain civil. He remembered the accusatory look he'd given him over the briefing room table. "I'm in the storage lab with Doctor Zelenka going over Rodney's notes of the Ancient device."

Sheppard turned, heading back down the corridor he'd just walked down. The transporter at the end of the hall would be able to get him to the lab on the other side of the city. Thankfully they'd picked a remote, but easily accessible location for the storage of the devices they'd brought back.

"Good. Stay there. I'll be there in five."

Sheppard clicked off, not waiting for the other man's reply. And, after a brief transport, he was standing in the doorway.

"Lorne, Radek" he said, nodding to the two men as he stepped into the room. They glanced up toward him, Zelenka barely acknowledging his presence whereas Lorne straightened in his chair, meeting his gaze evenly.

"You wanted to talk, Colonel?" he finally asked, breaking the awkward silence in the room.

"Yes. I think you need to tell me what's been going on."

"Sir, you might need to be more specific."

Sheppard's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing a warning. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. Why don't we take a walk, Major?"

Lorne's eyes narrowed, his arms crossing over his chest. Radek kept his head down, continuing to tap on the computer keyboard while the two men baited each other. "This conversation may be better suited to a more public place, sir."

"Lorne…" Sheppard growled, his tone and posture indicating just how this whole situation was pissing him off. The Major, however, knew this was as far from a professional inquiry as you could get.

"Whatever I have to say can be said right here."

"Fine," he finally said, moving closer to the workbench, his palms resting on top. "Why didn't you tell me something was up with McKay? And feel free to speak freely. We're both off-duty."

"What's there to say? You were on a mission and then we've all been busy with the illness."

"But you obviously thought the situation was important enough to keep an eye on it."

Lorne shrugged. "Not as close an eye as I should have."

"What happened to McKay?"

"What do you want to hear, Colonel?" Lorne asked, bitterness in his voice. "The one time Doctor McKay needed his friends the most, they all turned their backs on him. Do you think he didn't notice, wouldn't notice, that the few people who were treating him like a human being were suddenly gone?"

"It's not like the world is going to come to a stop just because McKay's not in the thick of things. There were missions, treaties. We couldn't just sit and wait." Sheppard shot back, his own words sounding like the excuses he knew they were.

"Your mission to 218 wasn't scheduled until last minute. I can check the mission logs if you want me to make sure. Or I can ask Teyla or Ronon. I'm sure they know what was planned and what wasn't," Lorne replied, his words clipped. "And my trip to the mainland with Doctor Beckett wasn't due for another week, yet we were all gone at the same time. Coincidence? I don't think so."

"Are you saying that Elizabeth and I changed the mission schedule to make things harder on McKay?"

"You said it, sir," Lorne said, raising an appraising eyebrow.

"I don't like what you're implying, Major."

"So should we talk in plainer terms? You and Doctor Weir were angry and you wanted to make sure Rodney got the message loud and clear. Well, sir, I think you can safely assume he did, but it might not have been the message you wanted him to hear. Do you have any idea what it took to get him to eat regularly, or even go in public? He was humiliated, shunned by the people he thought were his friends, and instead of lending a hand when he was down, you just left him there at the mercy of whatever your staff threw at him. I'm not sure what orders you gave the men on guard duty, but you managed to terrorize McKay even when you were on another planet."

"What are you talking about?"

"When I got back from the mainland, McKay would barely talk to me. He had hardly slept and was more irritable than I'd ever seen him. And whatever it was they were doing had grated on McKay so much that he took apart his door chime with his bare hands."

"I didn't tell them to do anything of the sort," he said, the words coming out more like a whisper than a statement.

"News to me, sir."

"Do you actually think I'd do something as petty as that?" he asked, the anger building once again. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

"I'm not sure you want me to answer that, Colonel."

John narrowed his eyes. "Try me."

Lorne glanced over briefly to Zelenka who was trying to duck into the laptop. He'd already moved several feet away, aiming toward the door. John didn't blame the Czech. If he could leave he would, but he needed to clear the air now. This had already gone too far.

"I could use several words to describe what you did to someone who was supposed to be your friend, but I think I'll keep them to myself." Lorne's expression was hard, his eyes harder. "Rodney tried to make things right, tried to apologize, but both you and Doctor Weir—two people whose opinion Rodney values more than you know—shot him down. He knew he'd screwed up and he understood the magnitude of what he'd done, but it was a mistake and one I doubt he will ever repeat. It was a harsh lesson to learn, but he learned it—on his own."

"I trusted him and what did he do? He abused the trust I'd given him, manipulating me to get what he wanted—another shot at that Nobel Prize."

"Is that what you keep telling yourself was his motivation?" Lorne shook his head. "Sure, you trusted him, but just because he was wrong does that make your trust misplaced? If that's the case then I sure as hell shouldn't trust anyone here because in one way or another everyone's done something wrong, made a mistake. We're all human. And honestly, how can you blame him for trying to do something, anything, to help us survive the Wraith? Do I have to remind you who it was who woke them up early in the first place?" Lorne's face took on a knowing expression, his eyes softening a hair. "I think there's something else behind your anger and I'm not sure you're looking in the right place."

"So this is all about me now?"

"If circumstances were different, do you honestly think Rodney would go on a suicide mission? We're talking about the man with the largest sense of self-preservation in two galaxies. But I don't think you gave him much of a choice. Even back at work, he was no longer part of a team. He worked on his own more than with others. He was withdrawing from everyone and everything."

"You saw it, why didn't you do something about it? Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"I did what I could, what he'd let me do. And you wouldn't have listened."

The silence grew for a moment before Lorne glanced away, his eyes sliding down to his tightly clasped hands for a beat before he looked back up.

"I tried. Beckett tried. Radek tried." At the sound of his name, Zelenka flinched, but Lorne kept going, not noticing. "But he wanted nothing to do with us. Do you know what Rodney wanted? Your friendship. Your approval. To know there was a way—any way—to earn back your trust and your respect. But you never gave him the opportunity."

"So, what, he figured this would put him back into my good graces? That doing this idiotic stunt would make me trust him again?"

"No, sir, I don't think that was it. In his mind, he was probably trying to give you the best he had to offer. If, through this one act, he was able to save Atlantis, I think that was going to be enough for him. He was looking for redemption, Colonel, maybe even a little bit of atonement for what he'd done wrong. So, he chose to do your…our job, our duty—to protect the city against the threat of the Wraith at all costs." Lorne took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "And I think, I've said more than enough. If I was out of line, then do what you will. You did come looking for my opinion, sir."

Sheppard nodded once, his jaw aching from the tension in his entire body. "I came looking for answers, but it seems that I'm not going to find them here."

"No, sir," Lorne said, shaking his head. "I think the only person who can answer your questions is on that hive ship."

"Then I suggest we'd find a way to get him out of there alive and well, because I seriously need to have a talk with that man."

"We're working on it, sir." Lorne paused. "Although, there is other thing."

"What?"

"If he is still alive and we do manage to get him out of there, he might not want to talk to you. If I were in his position, I honestly don't think I would."

"Let's first get him home, then we can worry about whether or not he talks to us. How about that?"

Lorne nodded. "Sounds like a plan, sir."

***

The next two days went by in a blur. While Zelenka and his team worked at figuring out the device Rodney'd found, another team had gone back to 218 to locate the last component for the weapon. They'd avoided the Mazurkians for now. Right now they only had time to deal with one problem. Everything else could wait until later.

It was certainly easy to find it this time around since they had the exact location within the base—at least once they figured out how the Ancients had coded everything.

A few hours before the hive ship was scheduled to drop out of hyperspace, they all met in the briefing room, the final pieces of the plan coming together.

"So, let me understand this," Weir said, glancing between Sheppard, Lorne, and Zelenka. "You plan on flying a cloaked jumper into the dart bay, and once you're there locate Rodney—if he's actually alive—plant the bomb and leave."

Sheppard nodded. "And all without the Wraith knowing we're there, yes."

"That's the plan?" Weir's eyebrow rose.

"That's the plan."

"That's not much of a plan," Carson muttered from his position at the far end of the table. He'd finally managed to vaccinate everyone on the mainland and in the city against the virus, and it seemed to be working. It had taken a lot of time and some tweaks along the way with certain persons who were more resistant than others, but it looked like they'd finally beaten it. In addition, Beckett had been trying to learn more about the nano-virus. If they could replicate it they'd have an incredible weapon against the Wraith. The technology, however, was still a ways ahead of them. Beckett had given it his best shot though, and looked like he'd run a marathon.

"What did you expect?" Sheppard asked, turning toward the doctor.

"Something a little less insane maybe."

"We don't have many options here."

"Rodney could be anywhere on that ship."

"We'll find him."

"He might not even be alive and you could be risking your life for nothing."

John's eyes narrowed. "He's alive and we're going to find him."

"And what if you're caught?" Weir asked.

"We won't go down without a fight and we'll make sure the device is planted and detonated. The hive will not reach Atlantis. You have my word."

Elizabeth glanced around the room, her eyes meeting everyone's before she nodded slowly, her shoulders slumping a little more. "Very well. I think you should get ready. There's not much time." She paused, offering a hopeful smile. "Bring him home, John."

The scraping of chairs against the floor was her only response as everyone quickly moved to finish the work that had to be done before Jumper One left the bay.

***

Radek Zelenka was putting the final touches on the Ancient device when Colonel Sheppard walked in, Major Lorne a few paces behind.

"Are you ready?" he asked even before he crossed the threshold into the lab. "We need to be there before the hive arrives."

"I am finishing now," he replied, closing down the last compartment. "Do you remember what I said?"

Lorne nodded. "Once we hit the button we'll have ten minutes to get out."

"And there's no way to turn it off," Sheppard added.

"Yes. I would also suggest you get as far from the ship as possible since I do not know exactly what will happen to the hive ship once it is infected. The Ancient database was not specific, only mentioning that there was complete destruction of the target."

"Get away from the exploding hive ship. Got it, doc," Sheppard said, more to himself than anyone else.

Zelenka nodded, allowing Lorne to pick up the device, carefully placing it in his pack. Thankfully the trigger was an Ancient mental switch instead of a physical one. The last thing they wanted to do was accidentally set it off.

"I need to get a few other things, sir, and then I'll meet you in the jumper bay," Lorne said, already turning toward the door.

"Five minutes." Sheppard said, keeping his eyes on Radek even as the Major left the room.

"You wanted something else?" Zelenka asked after a moment when he realized that the other man was not leaving.

"Just to say thanks. This wouldn't be much of a rescue plan without your help."

"Thank Rodney when you find him. It was his idea."

"I'll do that," he nodded. A beat later he turned and headed out the door with a purposeful stride.

Radek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Now, as long as the device works and they find Rodney perhaps things would get back to normal.

Maybe pigs would fly too.

***

Ronon was already in the jumper bay when John walked in. Flashing the Satedan a hard look, he brushed past him and headed toward the pilot seat. Footfalls followed him, and John knew the other man was standing several feet behind, most likely leaning against the bulkhead separating the front of the jumper from the back cargo area, his arms crossed over his chest.

When the silence and the weight of the other man's gaze became too much, he finally turned around, testiness in his voice. "What?"

"You were wrong, you know."

Turning back to the console, John tried to pretend he didn't know what the other man was talking about. But, after another minute he realized he couldn't. Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck—right where Ronon was staring. "And your point?"

The warrior shrugged. "I don't have one."

"No?" John turned again, bracing a hand on the console, an eyebrow raised toward the other man. "You obviously had one if you brought the subject up."

"Just an observation."

"You do that a lot, don't you? Observe, I mean."

"The only way to learn."

John turned in his chair more, narrowing his eyes. "And what have you learned?"

Ronon held his gaze. "That anger defeats the best soldiers. That guilty men make bad friends. That through all your technological advances you haven't been able to move past basic human failings. And that trust is as fleeting as protection is from the Wraith."

"So, what exactly does this have to do with me?"

"Not everything is about you, Sheppard. Sometimes you forget that. Stop taking out your anger on McKay."

"It's his fault that we're in the middle of this mess," he said, waving his hand toward the front of the jumper. "If he'd only—"

"I thought you were smarter than this," Ronon said, cutting off whatever protest John was about to make.

"What?"

"What's the real problem, Sheppard?"

"What makes you think there's a problem?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because you're still angry at him."

John's arms tightened involuntarily. "I have every right to be. First, he nearly killed the two of us when he wouldn't stop trying to fix the weapon. And now, I'm taking off on a damned rescue mission because he decided to play hero."

"Didn’t have much of a choice."

"There're always choices." John hissed, refusing to believe he'd forced Rodney into the Wraith's hands. As if his ears weren't still stinging from Lorne's comments a few days ago.

"If he's still alive, you might want to ask him about that. From where I was, it sure didn't look like there were any."

He pushed words through gritted teeth. "I didn't make him do anything."

"It's not about you, Sheppard."

Several pairs of footfalls outside the jumper broke off any other conversation, and John turned back to the consoles, grateful for the interruption. Lorne and Teyla entered a beat later, their voices carrying to the front of the craft.

Lorne slid into the co-pilot's chair. "We're ready to go, sir," he said.

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he hit the button to bring the rear hatch to its closed position.

"Jumper One to Flight. Permission to disembark."

***

Carson Beckett couldn't sit still. He'd done his rounds to the few patients left in the infirmary because of the virus an hour ago. He'd stopped by the lab to see how they were doing with synthesizing the new vaccines. He'd organized one of the supply rooms, doing inventory while he was there.

Now, standing in his office, eying his desk, he realized this was the last place he wanted to be.

Tucking his stethoscope deep into the pocket of his white medical coat, he headed for the door, his feet taking him away from the infirmary. It took his mind a few minutes to catch up before he realized he was halfway to the control room, his hands clenched tightly at his side.

The rescue team would be leaving shortly.

And there was a specific conversation he'd been ignoring that he needed to have with Elizabeth. Apparently, his subconscious was keen on the whole 'two birds with one stone' method.

He nodded to the few people he passed, many of them wearing a somewhat dazed expression. Impending invasion by the Wraith could do that to anyone he imagined, wondering if his own face looked the same.

Rounding the final corner, he bounded up the stairs, spotting Elizabeth walking around the control room, taking notes on her tablet PC as he paused behind each station. She looked drawn, pale, tired—just about usual for her as of late.

She glanced up as he reached the top of the stairs, her eyes and face doing a strange dance before settling down into a frown. "Carson," she said finally, her tone questioning his presence without being overly combative.

Yes, he thought, moving closer, it was definitely time they talked.

"Elizabeth, are you busy?"

She held his gaze for a moment before dropping it to the screen before her, scribbling down several notes before the stepped to the next monitor. "Actually, I am. Can it wait?"

He kept his tone level, but his voice boded no argument. "Nae, I don't think it can."

Her head rose once again, her eyes flashing with worry and concern. "What's wrong?"

"I believe it might be prudent to have this conversation in private," he said, gesturing toward her office. She nodded slowly, clasping the tablet closer to her body as she stepped through the obstacle course of chairs, people, and consoles. They moved silently to the room at the end of the hall. Carson palmed the door control as soon as they stepped inside, the clear panel closing with a hush, cutting out the noise of the control room.

"Carson, what seems to be the problem?" she asked, settling down in the chair behind her desk, placing her tablet back on its docking station.

He perched on the edge of the guest chair, his hands hanging loosely between his knees. "I think we should probably discuss what's going to happen when the rescue team returns."

"Why?" she asked, her back straightening, her eyes anywhere except on him. "Right now we need to be concerned about getting the team there and back safely. We don't even know if Rodney's alive."

"And if he is? What then? We can't ignore him this time around. Look where it got us the first time."

He wasn't sure if it was his comment or the accusatory tone of his voice that made he look up. "Is that what you think we did?"

"Aye, among other things."

Her eyes hardened as she looked at him, her lips thinning and tightening. "Subterfuge doesn't become you, Carson."

He rose, stalking to the other side of the room, his own anger and guilt eating at him from the inside. He took a moment before he turned back to her, trying not to let his own emotions flow too heavily into his tone. "You were wrong, Elizabeth."

She chuckled harshly, bitterly. "I've been wrong about a great number of things in my life, Carson, and an even greater number recently. You're going to have to be more specific than that."

"You were angry with him."

"Of course I was," she said, swiveling in her chair to face him, her arms crossed over her chest, hugging tightly against her body. "I had every right to be. He nearly destroyed an entire solar system and god only knows what other damage he might have done. We can't tell. We can't even get close enough to check and see."

"He made a mistake, Elizabeth," he said as he leaned over her desk, planting his hands on the top. "Can you tell me that you've never screwed something up?"

"Never on that scale."

"No, I canna imagine you have. But we are talking about Rodney here. He never does anything small."

"And that's the problem, isn't it?" she asked, rising to her feet as she moved toward the far end of the room. "What happens when that next mistake is something that does more than blows up an uninhabited solar system?"

"We hope like hell that doesn't happen and we trust him. What else is there to do?"

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "After all this, everything he's done, you trust him not to be blinded by the science, by the glory he sees around the next corner?"

"Yes," Carson said, nodding firmly. "As much of an arse he can be, I trust him with my life because time and time again he's proven to be someone I can trust."

She was quiet for a moment, her expression hard. "You know he went around me, forced me to approve the mission."

"By going to John?" Carson shrugged, not sure where she was headed. "Knowing Rodney he had a good reason and he knew you wouldn't listen to him once you'd made up your mind."

"Exactly. We'd already made the decision not to pursue it."

"But then John talked to you."

"Yes," she nodded. "And Colonel Caldwell."

"Oh?"

"He'd already given his report to the SGC."

Carson looked at her carefully, finally understanding much more about the entire situation. Shoving his hands into his pockets, his fingers of his right hand curling around the stethoscope still deep inside. "Caldwell took the decision out of your hands, didn't he?"

She nodded, turning away, the muscles in her back tense. "We could have lost the entire science department, if not more, had the SGC sent along other scientists."

"But that didn't happen."

"No," she said, shaking her head, her shoulder blades shifting under the fabric of her jacket. "No, it didn't."

"Who are you mad at, Elizabeth? Rodney? Colonel Caldwell? Yourself?"

She turned toward him, her anger clearly evident on her face.

He moved forward, his own ire unbowed by her reaction. "You're angry because you were out-flanked, that the decision was essentially taken out of your hands, and you found the likeliest candidate for your anger in Rodney. He didn't deserve what you did to him."

"What I did?"

"Yes, what you decided," he said, his voice rising as his hands began to fly in the air. "You and Colonel Sheppard. You were both angry—at the situation more than anything else—and you took that out on Rodney because he'd had the unfortunate opportunity to screw something up bigger than he'd done before."

"We can't have any of the science staff acting the way he did."

"I agree, but there were better ways to prove your point. Did you even bother to see the man you managed to crush?"

"Rodney was fine. He sat across from me in meetings, worked on projects. He was fine."

"No matter how many times you say it doesn't change things. Lorne and Ronon kept an eye on him. Some of us—when we were actually on Atlantis—tried to get him to talk, to interact on some kind of normal level, but he managed to withdraw from just about everyone and everything. Do you even care to know how much weight he's lost?"

"Why didn't you do something if you saw it happening?"

"I tried, but we were also neck deep in that bloody virus. It's not like I had a great deal of opportunity to track down a man who didn't want to be found."

Carson ran a hand through his hair, turning toward the window overlooking the gate below. Several people glanced toward him, obviously able to hear something through the thick glass. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Weir who was still standing on the other side of the room, her arms still wrapped around her body.

"Elizabeth,"' he began, his voice gentler than it had been only a moment before. "How often do you thank Rodney for what he's done for us?"

She frowned, her forehead scrunching together as confusion settled on her face. "I…what does that have to do with anything?"

Carson stepped closer, his own guilt beginning to bubble up from within. "He does so much for us—whether it's in the city or saving us from the Wraith. Without him, we'd be dead several times over by now. He's good at…fixing things, making things better. But have we ever thanked him, praised him?"

"He's not a child, Carson."

"No, he's not. He's a loud and abrasive man, but I watched him when he was under my care. Under that overbearing personality is a very tired, afraid, and sensitive man who finally found something that mattered to him—Atlantis, and in a way, us. But what did we do? We yanked everything out from under his feet. We're the ones who drove him to this."

After a moment Weir's eyes widened and she slid down into one of her guest chairs. "We did, didn't we?" she finally whispered, her glassy eyes locked with his.

"Aye, lass," he said, moving to her side, resting a hand on her shoulder. "But we can make it right again. We have to."

"Jumper One to Flight. Permission to disembark."

Rising quickly to her feet and shrugging of his hand, Weir tapped her radio as she walked out of her office and into the control room. "This is Flight. You are clear to leave."

"Thanks, Elizabeth," Sheppard said, his voice echoing out of the overhead speakers.

Carson walked over to stand at the rail, leaning against it as he waited for the jumper to descend. Less than a minute later, the gate activated and the ceiling opened, the jumper dropping into the room.

He felt Elizabeth move to stand at his side, her hands resting beside his on the railing. "Godspeed, John," she whispered as the jumper flew into the event horizon, the wormhole winking out of existence a minute later.

Now, all they could do was wait.

***

The voices whispered to him.

Sometimes soothing, other times grating, harsh, shattering the silence.

He floats, weightless, with only the voices as company. They taunt him, speaking of freedom, of open space, of hunger, of others.

The hunger is strongest.

He can feel it; the pain, the longing, until it gets too strong and they are unable to bear it.

And then the sweetest of pleasures washes over him, so strong and overwhelming that it cleanses all memories and thoughts away, leaving a clean white slate until it starts again.

Until he can actually hear the scream of yet another feeding—closer this time than before—and the cycle begins anew.

***

They waited.

Silent and invisible, the jumper sat in the shadow of a world about to be culled.

There was only one more hyperspace pause until it reached Atlantis, but this hive ship would go no further. Of that, Sheppard had vowed. The city would be safe even if he had to give his last dying breath to make it so.

Rodney's sacrifice would not be for nothing.

Shifting in the pilot's seat, he watched and waited, the conversations from the past several days still running though his head, his own guilt and anger mixing with the more clear and present fear of what was to come. He didn't want to think—couldn't think—about the possibility that Rodney was dead, already drained of life.

No. They were going to find him, save him, bring him home.

They'd been sitting here for two hours already, the hushed conversations between the rest of the team finally drifting to an end, the hum of the jumper the only sound.

Sheppard hated waiting.

The beeping of an alarm drew his attention, the scanners finally picking up an energy disturbance as the hive ship slowed and flashed into existence, gliding into a high orbit as the darts left the bay in droves, heading to the planet and their next feeding.

Powering up the jumper, Sheppard narrowed his eyes as they moved in, his aim true as they finally settled down within the huge hanger bay, off to a side, hopefully in a place where they wouldn't be discovered.

Locking down the controls, he swiveled in his seat, quickly attaching the P90 to the clip on his vest before moving to the back of the craft, grabbing extra ammunition and shoving it deep within his tactical vest.

A quick glance at the life signs detector in his left hand showed the bay in this area clear. They were good to go. He glanced over his shoulder, receiving a sharp nod from Lorne who sported his own handheld device and a pack with the Ancient weapon. Teyla and Ronon were poised, weapons drawn, waiting and watching him.

Nodding once, his hand slammed down on the hatch release and they were moving even before the rear was completely open. A quick click of the remote and it retracted, sealing their escape vessel from accidental entry.

"Ronon," he whispered, his eyes constantly on the move, shifting effortlessly from the device in his hand to the surrounding area. He tried not to twitch, but the smell in the hive was strong. Earthy and organic and something else—something his mind refused to identify. "Which way?"

"The cells are this way," he said gesturing with his chin to one of the passages on the right. "The stasis area is the other way. He could be in either."

Thankfully, the Satedan didn't add the other possibility. But Sheppard knew they were all thinking it.

"Cells first," Sheppard decided quickly. If McKay were there, it would be easy to retrieve him and get the hell out of Dodge. If not, Sheppard was determined to open each and every stasis pod until they found him.

Rodney deserved nothing less.

***

With Ronon and Sheppard leading them, Lorne hung in the back with Teyla, watching their six, his life signs detector in one hand, his P90 in the other.

The Colonel had been quiet the entire time, either staring out the forward window on the jumper or studying his hands. It seems that something had finally sunk into the man's thick skull.

Lorne was just happy that he wasn't going to get shipped directly back to Earth. Although, a rescue mission on a hive ship wasn't much better. Maybe Sheppard was just trying to find him a more exciting way to die.

No matter what, things should never have gone this far. He shouldn't have let them. And if Rodney was a dead, lifeless husk…Lorne broke off the thought. He didn't want to consider what Sheppard might do to him in that case. One thing Lorne had learned very quickly at the SGC: even if they were fighting angry at each other, you did not get between a military CO and his geek.

They moved silently, steadily, pausing when Wraith appeared on their sensors, ducking into side passages while they passed by.

They needed to stay hidden, invisible, if this was going to work.

And it had better work.

***

Ronon paused, his head cocked to the side as he listened intently, not totally trusting the device in Sheppard's hand. Technology could break; his senses wouldn't.

He nodded once, sharply, before ducking around the corner into the holding area, the empty cells clear evidence there was no one present.

In a way, it was better this way, not finding prisoners. There was no way for them to remain quiet, to stay hidden in the shadows with scared prisoners trotting behind them. No, he was grateful the cells were empty. It meant Sheppard had one less decision to make.

***

Teyla fell in behind as they left the holding cells, watching carefully, her senses attuned to the hive around her, waiting for that one slip, that one long glance that meant they had been uncovered.

It was only a matter of time, she knew, as they headed deeper into the ship toward the stasis chambers, to those who slumbered with dreams of the dying echoing in their minds.

Ronon led the way, closely followed by Sheppard, whose expression continued to harden with every step he took, a strange determination settling over him thickly. They passed several chambers, the husks of the dead yet to be removed, their frozen, dried bodies hanging limply from the webbing.

She turned in disgust.

Sheppard's hand came up suddenly—just as Ronon stopped short—the gestures to take cover clear. Ducking into an alcove, she held her breath, tucking herself as far into the shadows as she could, the smell of death surrounding her. Trying not to gag, she breathed slowly, shallowly, watching as two Wraith drones marched past, their eyes front and center, their semi-cocooned victim dragging behind.

Waiting several minutes, they finally emerged, Sheppard waving emphatically as he moved to follow.

"Colonel—" she whispered, her eyes warning him to be more careful, but he wasn't listening.

"The first darts are already back. We're running out of time," he hissed, moving closer so she could hear him. "They're heading toward the stasis chambers. Maybe Rodney's in one of them."

"But there are bound to be more Wraith there, bringing others they have culled. It is unwise."

He replied, the word shoved through his clenched teeth. "I. Don't. Care."

"Colonel—"

He turned, signaling for Ronon to move, ignoring the disapproving glances from her and Major Lorne.

They moved out quickly, quietly, and after exchanging a long look with the Major, they had no choice but to follow.

Lifting their weapons, they headed out.

***

Hiding in the shadows, they watched as the Wraith's latest victim was placed in the stasis chamber, the membrane and webbing covering the body completely. The drones stepped away, waiting as the wall nearly swallowed the figure whole, before moving down the corridor, leaving silence in their wake.

They were in the right place. They had to be.

There had to be some logical way the Wraith organized their food, oldest to newest—or at least John was hoping.

And they'd found the newest.

Gesturing with his hand, he dropped his P90 and reached for his knife, by-passing the newest victim and digging the blade into the next surface. He heard, rather than saw the rest of his team move to begin on other chambers, ripping, slicing, and harsh breathing the only sound.

They had to hurry.

The first person he uncovered—breaking the membrane with his fingers—was already dead, the pulse long gone, lifeless wide-open eyes staring at him.

He moved on.

Teyla hissed at him as she moved her victim to the ground, leaning him against the wall. "We can't leave them here, Colonel."

"We can't take them."

"You intend to leave them?"

"What else to you expect me to do? We don't have a lot of options here," he replied, trying to move past her to the next chamber. Her hand on his arm stopped him.

His eyes slid down to where her fingers dug into his forearm before sliding to the life signs detector. They were still alone, although Ronon and Lorne had added two more victims to the tally.

"We don't have time for this, Teyla," he hissed, refusing to raise his eyes. "You know the mission."

"Colonel—" she began, only to be cut off by a half-cry from Lorne. Glancing over, he saw a smile of relief on the Major's face, his hands continually digging at the membrane and webbing in the stasis chamber.

"Sir, we've got him."

***

He was cold.

And he could feel hands on his body, pulling and yanking at something, the cold air touching his skin, making him shiver.

How much time has passed since he'd last been aware? He did not know.

Memory flashed.

Ancient device.

Oh no.

Panic surged through him as he knew instinctively—even barely conscious—what was happening to him, what the hands meant.

He was being moved, taken somewhere to be fed upon.

He tried to struggle, to move, to resist, but no muscle moved, the paralysis still hanging on strongly.

He wanted to fight, to scream. He didn't want to die.

***

Sheppard hadn't been able to hold Teyla's gaze, focused on his feet until he finally threw a body over his shoulder and headed back to the dart bay, the rest of the team quickly following his lead. With a partially unwrapped Rodney over Ronon's shoulder, and everyone else carrying one of the other victims they'd uncovered, they stole through the ship, waiting for the alarm to be raised.

Two Wraith had passed them by as they'd hovered, barely protected down a side corridor, waiting as the seconds ticked by. Lorne had tucked the Ancient device into the chamber Rodney had been encased in, shoving it down deep so as not to be discovered before triggering the timer.

They had ten minutes and every second counted because John had every intention on being out of the hive ship before it became terminally infected with the nano-virus. They had no idea how the hive would react to the infection and he didn't want to find out firsthand.

There was no way they were coming this far—and finding McKay—and not getting out alive. That wasn't even a consideration.

They were all going back to Atlantis so Sheppard could kick some sense into McKay. Dying made that whole proposition difficult.

Shifting the weight of the body on his shoulders, and trying to juggle the life signs detector in his hands, Sheppard nodded and they headed off once again, trying to hurry and remain quiet.

They weren't quite able to do both.

The wail of the alarm through the ship meant that someone had stumbled on their extraction in the stasis room.

There was no point in being silent now. Sheppard turned and shouted, knowing the bay was still several corridors away. "Run!"

***

While Major Lorne generally thought life in the Pegasus Galaxy was entertaining, albeit a bit dangerous, he never pictured himself hauling ass down a Wraith hive ship hallway with the body of some stranger strewn across his back in a rough fireman's carry.

Apparently, his life was supposed to be anything but normal.

As he ran, he tried to keep his eyes on where he was going, but continually checked the device in his hands. It was hard to do and not drop the person they'd rescued, but he didn't have much choice in the matter—especially because he and Teyla were forming the rear guard, Ronon and Sheppard half a hallway ahead.

When several dots appeared behind them, Lorne knew they were going to be in trouble.

"Colonel," he said, managing to tap his radio on. "We have four incoming on our six."

"You sure?" cam back his huffed reply.

Lorne rolled his eyes as he kept pace with Teyla who had the young girl over her shoulder. "No, Colonel, I decided to report something I didn't see. If I’m wrong then it's the life sign detector's fault."

"It's not that much farther."

"I know. I'm just worried that they might catch up."

"Less talking and more running might help," Sheppard replied unhelpfully before adding in a more serious tone, "Keep an eye on them. If they get too close we'll have to do something about them. I'd rather not get into a stand-off if we don't have to."

"Agreed. Lorne out."

Shaking his head, he hefted the body, trying to shift it into a more comfortable position as he picked up the pace, his eyes flickering between the screen of the detector and the far end of the hallway.

About two minutes later, he could see the vague outline of the dart bay, but at about the same time two more dots appeared on the screen, coming in from a side corridor. And they were close.

"Teyla," he said, pushing the words out even as he tried to move faster. "Two coming up on the right."

"Understood," she said, her voice calm but strained. At least he wasn't the only one feeling the stress.

Glancing ahead, he saw Sheppard and Ronon take the final turn into the bay, the jumper only a few more feet away. As soon as he shifted his eyes to the screen once more to check the readings, he realized that Teyla had pulled ahead of him and that the Wraith had gained on them.

He was only half expecting the whine of the Wraith stunners. He wasn't expecting that they'd manage to hit something.

Lorne barely registered Teyla's yell as he tumbled to the floor, consciousness rushing away before his body hit.

***

"Major!"

Teyla's cry, the whine of the Wraith stunner, and the sound of two thumps against the floor was enough for John Sheppard to know what things had just gone from bad to worse.

Sheppard turned, steps from the jumper as Ronon ducked inside with McKay through the rear hatch John had only opened moments before, vanishing from sight only to appear seconds later, his weapon out already moving back to the hallway.

"Colonel," Teyla's strained voice broke over the radio. "Major Lorne is down and I am…pinned down."

"Ronon's on his way," he replied as the runner dashed around the corner, his weapon firing.

John headed into the jumper, depositing his own passenger on the opposite bench from Rodney, keeping them both out of harms way. He moved quickly to the scientist's side, wiping several strands of the cocoon away from his face, his fingers moving to tear away the membrane that still surrounded the man, but he stopped.

First things first, he said to himself, pulling his hand back. He had to get his team back in one piece and out of the hive before it blew—any minute now.

***

Ronon's first shot went wild, but the second hit its mark, and the Wraith drone dropped to the floor a few paces from Lorne's unconscious figure. Two more Wraith stepped into view a second later and were quickly dispatched with two successive shots.

Teyla emerged a moment later from a small alcove she'd apparently ducked into, the young woman they'd rescued still on her shoulders. "Go," he said. "I'll hold them off."

She nodded once, already on the move as Sheppard ran into view, his P90 poised and ready.

"Grab Lorne," Ronon said, pointing with his free hand toward the two slumped figures. "I'll grab the other one."

"The Wraith?" he asked, refusing to give in to easily, his eyes scurrying around the corridor.

"More on the way. We need to hurry."

He nodded once, finally, before letting his weapon drop to hang from the clip on his vest. He bent, dragging Lorne onto his shoulders with a groan before turning back to the dart bay.

Ronon waited a few seconds, his eyes scanning the area, gun at the ready, before he too bent down and hoisted the man onto his shoulders and headed for the jumper, his gun and eyes continuing to survey the area.

"Ronon, we're clear," Sheppard's voice came over the radio. "Get your ass in here."

"Coming, Sheppard," he replied, one last glance over his shoulder as he ran for the jumper, depositing the man they'd rescued on the floor next to Lorne while the rear hatch closed. Teyla was moving efficiently between the unconscious bodies, checking them over.

Sheppard was already in the pilot's seat, going through one of the fastest pre-flights Ronon had ever seen, the jumper lifting off moments after he'd slumped down into the co-pilot's chair.

"How much time?"

The other man shook his head, not lifting his eyes from the HUD as he turned the craft to fly out of the bay and into space. "Not sure. Soon."

Ronon nodded, watching as they passed the darts still sitting serenely in their places. In a few more seconds they'd be gone.

A low rumble flashed over them and the HUD changed quickly, switching to sensor output. "I think it worked," Sheppard replied after a long moment. "Sensors are showing an explosion in one of the lower levels within the ship. It seems power levels in that section have been compromised."

"Good."

"Maybe." Sheppard paused again, the screen switching to another view as the jumper finally reached space, speeding away from the hive and to the nearest Stargate. "As long as they don't have a vaccine."

"Would they?" The question came from Teyla who was still in the rear of the jumper. Ronon glanced back, spotting her kneeling next to McKay as she tried to clear some of the membrane and webbing away from him.

"It's been ten thousand years. Anything's possible," Sheppard said dryly, his eyes fixed on the controls.

"Sheppard," Ronon growled, his meaning clear as the other man replied, turning slightly to glance at him.

"It's doubtful, but possible. I'd just be more comfortable knowing the ship blew up before we go through the gate."

"As would I," Teyla said. Ronon heard a slight shuffling of clothing and she was beside them, glancing out the window.

"We need to get them back to Atlantis," Sheppard said, glancing over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on the figures lying in the rear of the craft.

"How long should it take until the virus overwhelms the Wraith's systems?"

Sheppard's eyes moved to the Athosian. "Radek said a few minutes."

"Then we shall wait a few minutes to be sure." Her voice was firm, boding no argument. Sheppard, for once, only nodded, turning back to the console, the HUD changing once again, magnifying the Wraith ship on their screens, the sensors providing an overlay of data.

"They're losing systems," Sheppard said a moment later, after studying the information scrolling across the screen. "And I'm getting a power build-up in their hyperdrive engine core."

Ronon glanced through the HUD toward the Wraith ship, judging the distance. "Are we far enough away?"

Sheppard's hand shot out, fiddling with several buttons before gripping the controls once again. His first response was quiet, on the edge of an exhaled breath. "Damn…" His hands pushed several other buttons before he spoke again, finally answering the question in one clipped word. "No."

The jumper swung around sharply, racing toward the Stargate even as the alarms in the jumper began to sound about an incoming energy wave.

The Hive was exploding.

"Hang on!" Sheppard yelled as the blast screamed across the open space between them.

***

Elizabeth Weir waited.

It was something she did quite a lot, but she still hadn't found a way to enjoy it, or to cope with it for that matter. Pacing through the control room, she paused behind Doctor Zelenka who was staring at the screen that displayed the long-range sensors.

The hive ship had paused nearly an hour ago in the exact location Radek said it would, but since then nothing had changed.

It was maddening.

"Anything?" she asked quietly, trying to keep her voice down since she knew everyone in the control room—including Carson who was hunched over a console in the far corner—had been asking the same question of the Czech.

He shook his head slowly, pushing his fingers up under his glasses to rub at his eyes. "Nothing. The Wraith could pause there for as long as a day, if not more."

"I know," she said, her arms curling around her torso in a loose hug.

Zelenka scowled toward the screen, his fingers flying across the nearby laptop. "I am however, getting new readings."

"And?"

"Some kind of energy wave…one second," he said, concentrating on his typing while Weir's eyes were drawn to the now fuzzy image on the screen. Elizabeth heard the shuffle of clothing and footfalls against the floor as someone slid beside her. Casting a quick glance over her tense shoulder, she spotted Carson, his expression worried.

"There we have it," Zelenka finally replied a moment later as the screen cleared.

"Radek…" she began, the word trailing off, but Carson picked up right where she left off.

"What happened to the hive ship?"

The alarm of an incoming wormhole pulled their attention away from the monitors, Weir moving instantly to stand at the dialing device, hovering over the Sergeant manning the station.

"We have an incoming wormhole, ma'am," he replied, fingers tapping against the laptop keys. "Colonel Sheppard's IDC."

"Drop the shield," she said, striding to the railing as the shield vanished and the jumper leapt into view. The gate closed as the jumper rose toward the ceiling into the bay above. As she turned, she saw Carson was already halfway up the stairs.

She raced to follow with Zelenka on her heels. She heard the Sergeant's call over the citywide communications system for medics to the jumper bay. She didn't like the sound of that at all.

***

As soon as the jumper touched down, John Sheppard released the rear door, finishing the shut down procedure before he turned to rise. Beckett was already inside, probably entering as soon as he could squeeze through the gap, medical bag in hand. He'd stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes drifting over the five bodies littering the rear compartment of the jumper.

Multiple footfalls in the bay indicated the cavalry in the form of several medics bearing stretchers had arrived. The Sergeant had been quick in relaying his request it seemed.

Apparently, hearing the racket behind him, Beckett shook off whatever had stopped him and headed directly for Rodney, his hands latching onto the man even as Teyla continued to pull the membrane from his still and compliant body.

A few flicks of his penlight and several quick hands-on tests later, and Beckett was gesturing for the stretcher, waving off Teyla's attempts to finish what they'd started. "We need to get him to the infirmary now," he said, helping the medics as they lifted McKay onto the gurney.

Seconds after McKay was secured to the gurney, they were gone, running down the corridors to the infirmary, leaving Doctor Biro and the rest of the medical staff who'd reported to deal with the rest of them.

"What happened to Major Lorne and who are all these people?" Weir asked as she rushed up to the jumper, Zelenka, on the other hand, was trailing behind the departed medical team. Sheppard slowly approached her, stepping carefully around the bodies and the medics to stop near the open hatch as Ronon replied from his position just outside the jumper.

"He was hit by a Wraith stunner just before we left. The rest…talk to Sheppard."

John rubbed a hand over his face, feeling Weir's eyes on him. He shrugged. "We found them when we were looking for Rodney. We couldn't just leave them there to blow up with the rest of the ship."

"So you just brought them with you?"

Squinting past his finger he saw her raised eyebrow and strangely apprising expression.

He dropped his hand to his side. "We'd already rescued them and they weren't going to get out on their own…" he began, his muscles tensing immediately even more so than during their now-completed mission.

She held up her hands, warding off his anger and defensiveness. "I'm not arguing with you, John. It just surprised me. I’m not complaining. I think their families will be happy to see them safe and sound."

"If that's all," he said, attempting to step around her when she touched his arm, stopping him mid-step.

"What happened out there?"

He shrugged, feeling the heat and weight of her fingers through the fabric of his shirt and jacket. "We got what we went for and the weapon worked just as well as Radek said it would."

Several medics passed them by, Lorne on a gurney, headed for the door, the young woman they're rescued on another with her own medical escort.

"If you don't mind," he said, drawing Elizabeth's attention away from the wounded and back to his team. "I'd like to report to the infirmary to get checked out and see what the Doc has to say about McKay's condition. We got banged up a bit from the blast."

"Oh," Weir's eyes widened, shifting immediately between the three ambulatory team members. "Of course. I didn't realize…"

"It's okay," he said, taking a step away, her hand sliding from his arm. "Nothing major, but we should get it checked out."

Weir nodded. "Yes. Fine. Debrief in an hour?"

"I'd like to wait until we have more information about our guests," he said already turning away, but knowing she would protest.

"John—"

"Look," he said, turning back. "We went, we got Rodney, blew up the hive, and now we're home safe and sound. Can we save the details for later?"

She looked at him intently, her eyes narrowing, but she finally nodded, taking her own step back from him, her arms moving to fold over her chest. "Tomorrow then. First thing."

"Fair enough," John nodded.

She smiled lightly, lips pressed in a thin line. "Go, John. We'll talk tomorrow."

Even as he nodded again and moved away, Teyla and Ronon flanking him, he knew that something had changed since he was gone. Weir was…quieter, different. He knew the talk tomorrow was not going to be a normal mission debrief.

***

Carson Beckett moved quickly, efficiently, yelling orders for supplies and tests. Anne Matthews was at his side, her hands steady and sure as they pulled the membrane away from Rodney's body, exposing skin and clothing—both marked by the organic material.

"I need a pair of scrubs too," Carson called to one of the passing medics who nodded and diverted to the supply closet to retrieve some. He turned toward Matthews, his fingers itching to help, but knowing he'd just get in the way. "It might be easier with scissors," he said finally adding 'and quicker' in his mind.

She shook her head. "I can't feel anything with the scissors. I'm not sure exactly how they got this on him in the first place. I think his arms might be wrapped separately," she said, never pulling her eyes away from her patient. "I'll be done in a minute."

"Aye, I know," he said, yanking out his stethoscope. He pushed the shirt aside so he could press the end against skin, listening intently. Heartbeat was strong. Breath sounds were good. Carson was hoping the unconsciousness was simply a symptom of the culling and stasis. They'd seen some evidence of the effect of the culling beam on humans—and on Rodney specifically—so, hopefully it would wear off within a few hours.

As long as they were dealing with the same thing. The brain scan and blood tests would give them a definitive answer.

And thankfully, there were no feeding marks. He sighed, relief cascading over him, helping to ease some of the tension in his body.

Anne finally pulled one of Rodney's arms free and Carson moved in quickly, slitting the sleeve of the jacket and shirt and adding a blood pressure cuff.

Nodding to himself, he jotted down the numbers on McKay's chart—a little high, but nothing out-of-the-ordinary—before pulling the cuff off with a loud tear of the Velcro. Pulling an IV catheter from the supplies on the table, he inserted it easily into a vein in the crook of Rodney's arm, collecting several vials of blood with a syringe before connecting the tubing. A drop of blood on the glucometer showed Rodney's glucose levels lower than they should be. A bag of dextrose and saline was hung to replace the lost fluids and depleted glucose.

Anne had managed to free Rodney's other hand, laying it down gently beside him as she moved down his body, continuing to work as Carson added the sticky pads to Rodney's head where the leads would attach once they had him in place and in scrubs—which had been placed beside the bed on the chair several minutes ago.

A swift cut with the scissors and Rodney's shirt was gone. Anne paused long enough to help Carson wrestle the scrub top onto the scientist's unconscious body. Pads for the heart monitor followed next.

As he was finishing up, Anne finally completed her task, sadness and compassion on her face. A few seconds later, Rodney was ready to be moved into the critical care area.

"Ready?" he asked, catching his head nurse's eyes. She nodded, grabbing hold of the end of the gurney and moving on Carson's command into the adjoining room, the transfer to the next bed done quickly and easily.

The wires went on next; Anne finishing the connections, making sure Rodney was hooked into all manner of equipment.

It had all taken less than ten minutes, but now all they could do was wait—for the tests to come back and for Rodney to finally join the land of the conscious.

***

Carson finally appeared in the main infirmary about an hour after John Sheppard saw him last. He looked drawn, haggard, but his lips were pulled in a hesitant smile as he approached the waiting area.

"Doc?" John asked, rising to his feet, the movement quickly followed by Teyla, Ronon, Zelenka, and Elizabeth.

"Major Lorne is unconscious. From past experience with the Wraith stunners, the paralysis he'll experience upon waking should wear in about another hour or so and I'll be able to release him."

"And Rodney?" Weir asked, taking a step closer.

Beckett sighed, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. "It's a tad bit early to tell. He's dehydrated and his blood sugar was low, so we're correcting those now. His weight's down too, but that might have more to do with situations prior to his culling. It doesn't look like he was fed upon at all."

The doctor paused, taking another deep breath. "I'm not sure how Wraith stasis chambers work, so it's hard to saw how long he'll remain unconscious. His brain functions seem to be fine and I’m still waiting on his blood test results. All in all, he's in okay shape for someone culled. I should know more later."

"And the rest of our guests?" she asked. He'd already forgotten about them, focused as he was on Lorne and McKay.

"Still unconscious, aye, which makes me worry a tad bit less about Rodney since they're all in a similar state. As soon as I know more I'll let you know."

"Can we see them?" Sheppard asked, generalizing, but in reality he only wanted to check on the scientist. He had to know Rodney was going to be all right. He moved forward several steps.

"There's not much to see, Colonel," Beckett replied, shaking his head, but he relented. "I can let one of you in for five minutes, but that's it. It looks like you all could use some sleep."

"We probably could, Carson," Elizabeth said, a tight smile on her face, already turning toward the door. "You'll give me an update as soon as you know more?"

"Aye, lass, that I will."

She nodded and moved off. Teyla and Ronon settled back down in the chairs set aside, leaving Sheppard the only one standing. "I'd like to see them."

Nearly a full minute passed before the doctor nodded. "Follow me."

Keeping his hands in his pockets, Sheppard trailed behind Carson, pausing by Lorne's bed first, long enough to see he was looking good—for someone shot by a Wraith stunner that is. He patted Lorne's leg, telling him to get better even though the man probably couldn't hear him. Their guests were next, lying still and quiet in the critical care unit, the three beds alongside each other.

Beckett moved farther down the ward, yanking back the privacy curtains around the far bed. McKay was hooked up to far more equipment than anyone else, which made Sheppard uneasy, but it also made him feel better. Carson would make sure he was all right, checking on him every step of the way.

"I'll be back in five minutes, Colonel," he said quietly, before his nearly silent footfalls faded away.

John stood awkwardly, staring at McKay, taking in his pale and drawn features, the multitude of wires and tubes and all of the heavy equipment set up alongside the bed.

Pulling the chair closer, John settled down, his hand resting lightly on McKay's forearm, careful not to touch anything else.

"I know you probably can't hear me," he began, the words barely audible. "But I wanted to tell you I was sorry for being an asshole. I didn't like how I felt, that you'd manipulated things…events…me…to get your way. I was angry at that…at you for that." John paused, taking a deep breath. "I don’t think I've ever stopped trusting you, McKay, but sometimes you do some of the stupidest things—for a genius. Get better and then we'll have a real talk. Okay?"

John patted the scientist's arm, but didn't move, waiting until Carson returned before he rose, casting one last glance over his shoulder as he was escorted from the critical care unit and placed in the hands of his team.

At least, healing had begun.

***

Major Lorne blinked open his eyes, groaning as the bright light of the infirmary drilled a hole into his already tender skull.

A fuzzy face swam into view a moment later.

"There ye are, Major," came the comment laced with a thick Scottish accent, which meant it could only be one person. "We were wondering when you were going to join us again."

Lorne went to roll his head to the side to get a better view, but for some reason his neck was refusing to move. Panic began to settle in. Brief commands to move his arms, legs, toes, and fingers also went unanswered.

Apparently, Beckett could see something in his eyes—or maybe it was the whimper that escaped from his throat instead of the scream he wanted to emit—and Becektt reached out, his hand landing on one of his unmoving limbs. "Relax. It's just the effects of the Wraith stunner blast. It'll wear off shortly. So," he said, as the head of the bed rose a bit and Lorne could see more of the main ward of the infirmary, "close your eyes and relax. We'll take good care of you."

Carson's hand vanished and he moved a few steps away. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the doctor had paused, writing notes on the chart in his hands.

But what happened? He wanted to scream, to shout. After getting hit he didn't remember a thing. How did he even manage to get home? Was the hive destroyed? Did they actually bring McKay home? Was he okay?

Frustration welled up from inside and with no outlet for his questions he felt trapped, hemmed in, a pressure building up in his chest until he swore it would burst.

Something must have changed—had he whimpered again? Moaned?—because Beckett was back a moment later, his warm hand resting against his cheek as he turned his head to the side so Lorne could look directly into the doctor's tired blue eyes.

"Lad, Evan, calm down. Everyone's fine. You're fine."

Lorne wanted to believe, needed to believe, but it was hard. He didn't like this feeling, of being completely out of control, relying on someone else entirely.

"If you don't calm down, I'm going to have to give you something. I'd rather have you awake and alert so I can monitor your progress, but I'll sedate you if I have to," Beckett warned, his voice kind, warm. "I canna have you giving yourself a heart attack after everything."

I don't care about me, is what he wanted to scream, and instinctively Beckett seemed to know that as he pulled up a nearby chair settling down in it.

"Colonel Sheppard, Teyla, and Ronon are fine. They had their checks and I sent them on their way," he began, his voice tired, his hands clasped together, holding the chart pressed into his lap. "They're supposed to be sleeping, but the last I checked the Colonel was hovering near the infirmary doors. He backed off when I gave him the evil eye, but I'm sure that will only hold him at bay for a short time. I have the urge to sedate his arse just to get him to rest."

Beckett chuckled to himself, shaking his head, apparently remembering something that gave him reason to be amused. For some strange reason, that simple sound helped to put him more at ease than all the reassurances the doctor had uttered. Maybe it was the fact it was so carefree, it proved things were okay.

"The…guests you brought back are doing well enough, I suppose. They're all still unconscious, but from what I can tell they seem to be in good health, relatively speaking. It's hard to know for sure since I'm not completely certain of what is normal for them. As soon as they wake I’m sure Elizabeth will have questions for them before we send them home." He paused, offering a weary smile. "We're sure to have some happy families when this is all finished. Perhaps even a new alliance, some new friends. I think that will be good. We need all the friends we can get…that will have us."

The doctor fell silent again, lost momentarily in his own thoughts. Lorne needed to hear the rest, to know what else was going on, what happened to the man Beckett had left for last. He wanted to reach out and draw the other man's attention back to the present, but all he could offer was the barest twitch of his left pinky. That was something at least. Although, if the doctor told him he should be proud of that accomplishment because he had been mostly dead all day, then he was going to jump off the nearest balcony the first chance he got.

Beckett took another breath, shaking himself as he turned back to Lorne. "I have Rodney in the critical care unit, along with our other guests, just to monitor their conditions a little closer. He was dehydrated and his blood sugar levels were low. He's unconscious, still, and from what I know of the circumstances around his culling, will probably suffer the same paralysis you're enjoying right now once he's finally conscious."

He sighed, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "His bloodwork came back clean of foreign bodies, but I'm not happy with some of the levels I'm seeing, so we're trying to set that right while he's quiet. Easier that way. He can't argue with the treatment at least or complain he's being treated by a medical staff comprised of vampires and sheep shearers."

A shuffle of fabric just outside of his range of vision caused Beckett to turn and nod. "I'll be along in a minute, Anne. Thanks. You might want to let Elizabeth know." Carson swiveled back to Lorne. "It seems one of our guests is awake, so I have to take my leave for a few moments. If I catch the Colonel hovering in my infirmary, I'll send him over."

Beckett rose, pushing the chair back into its corner, his movements precise as his words continued, a tad quieter than before. "I have every reason to believe Rodney will be fine, but I'm worried about him, about how he's going to react. He's going to need a lot of help to get him through this."

Straightening up and turning to face the bed again, Beckett patted Lorne's arm and offered a smile. "This should wear off quickly, so be patient. I'll have one of my nurses pop in to check on you every few minutes, make sure you're okay."

Lorne watched Beckett leave, tucking his chart under his arm as he walked quietly toward the critical care ward of the infirmary, only a short distance down the hallway from where he lay.

He could hear the light tones of conversations floating in the air, more murmurs than actual words, but it helped him drift, hovering somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. He felt more than saw or heard the nurses stopping by. Once when he opened his eye, Anne stepped in, making sure he didn't need anything. He was able to shake his head slightly, letting her know that he was fine.

At least this was all temporary, he thought. Death was a whole lot more permanent.

***

Rushing into the briefing room, her PDA in hand, Elizabeth Weir offered a hesitant smile to the assembled members of the rescue mission along with Carson Beckett. "Sorry I'm late," she said, sliding into her chair. "I was in the middle of a debate with some of the science staff and the possibility of opening up several hydroponics labs."

"Hydroponics?" Carson asked, swiveling slightly in his chair. "I thought Rodney was working with them on that project."

"That's the problem. It seems he hasn't given his full approval of the project, but they want to move on and get the space allocated, claiming they can't miss the next growing cycle." She paused, laying her hands on the tabletop, her fingers spread wide. "But you're not here to talk about hydroponics. Colonel, do you want to start?"

"The mission was a success," Sheppard replied blandly, nearly sprawled in his chair. "The weapon worked exactly as Doctor Zelenka said it would. If we could get ourselves several more of them we'd have an offensive weapon we can write home about."

"But I thought this was a one-time-only deal."

"According to what Doctor Z found in the database, the one we used was the last one the Ancients created," Lorne said, still a little pale, but on his feet after an overnight stay in the infirmary. "But, according to McKay's notes, we might be able to reverse engineer one. It seems he took it completely apart and wrote notes on every screw used. The nano-virus is the real stumbling block."

"Aye," Beckett added. "From what I had the opportunity to study, the technology the Ancients used is several leaps beyond our current science. It could take years to develop anything we could use."

Weir nodded. She'd guessed as much, but she still had to ask. "Was the hive able to get off any kind of message before it was destroyed?"

"Doubtful," Sheppard replied. "I don't think they knew what hit them. From the initial detonation to the explosion of the hive, I'd say it was less than five minutes. Even if they did get a message out, it was probably along the SOS variety. I'll have Zelenka monitor the sensors to see if we get any other visitors."

"Very well," she said, nodding as she made several notes on her PDA. "Carson, how are our guests?"

"They're doing much better this morning. I've been able to get a little information from them about where they're from and that's been uploaded to the server for you to take a look at. You might be surprised to find out that one of the gentlemen was a resident of 218."

"Soony's planet?" Teyla asked, surprise on her face.

"Aye, one in the same."

"When do you think they'll be ready for a short meeting before we arrange to send them home?"

"Telem should be on his feet later today," Beckett said. "The rest, probably in another day."

"And Rodney?"

He sighed, leaning forward, his elbows on the table. "Still unconscious, but we've managed to get all his levels straightened out. He seems fine, but I won't know more until he's conscious. I was hoping his condition would have changed earlier this morning."

"He is okay, right, doc?" Lorne asked, concern clearly evident on his face.

"As far as I can tell, he's fine. All the tests I've done so far look good. But you know Rodney. He doesn't always do what you expect."

Elizabeth held back a chuckle. Wasn't that the truth. "Very well, Carson. Please keep me updated." She paused, her eyes focused on the PDA in her hand as she tried to find the words to say what she was thinking. When they came, they were slow, hesitant. "I wanted to thank all of you for doing what you did to get him back. I was honestly doubtful there would be something to bring home, but I'm glad you proved me wrong. If there's nothing else…" She glanced around the room, her eyes connecting briefly with everyone.

"Dismissed."

***

Rodney McKay floated.

It was different than before: quieter in his mind than it had been, but noisier in other places. The screaming was gone, as was the unending hunger. Instead it had been replaced by a hushed silence laced with muted beeps and whispered conversations.

Atlanis' infirmary?

No. That couldn't be right.

If he was back on Atlantis that meant someone had come to rescue him from a Wraith hive ship. This, in the grand scheme of things was highly unlikely. There was no way Elizabeth would risk a team for one person—especially him. And, there was no way Sheppard would even attempt that kind of stunt. He had the tendency to be suicidal, yes, but generally it was because there was nothing else to do.

This, on the other hand, was merely the choice of him or certain death by attempting to infiltrate a hive.

But, from the evidence at hand, it certainly seemed like he was home.

Wrestling back a sigh, he realized he needed more information to form any kind of conclusion. Dragging himself back to reality from where he'd perched was difficult, but once he started there was no going back.

Feeling returned slowly, from his heavy limbs to the prick of something—an IV perhaps—in the crook of his arm. Something was lying on top of him, keeping him warm and comfortable, his body propped up with what seemed like pillows behind him.

The sounds too, were much clearer and the smell of antiseptic was hard to misplace.

He was in Atlantis. But how? Why? It didn't make any sense.

He could already hear the hear monitor beside him speeding up as he slowly began to panic. He forced his heavy lids to open, the scenery a blur through watering eyes. Blinking several times, he tried to clear them, force them to cooperate.

He turned his head slightly; everything about him feeling like it weighed ten times more than it should.

"Doctor McKay?"

The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it or the face hovering over him.

"Let me get Doctor Beckett," she said, disappearing from view a moment later. He could hear her voice, raised now, and after a flurry of activity she was back at his side. "He'll be right here. Are you feeling okay? Can I get you anything?"

Rodney blinked several times, more overwhelmed by the sheer sensory input than anything as his vision slowly cleared revealing the half-lit interior of the infirmary. Privacy screens had been erected around his bed, monitors stacked up on either side of him, tubes and wires running to various parts of his body.

He felt like some kind of strange lab experiment.

Another eruption of movement and Carson careened into view, rubbing sleep off of his face. As soon as he caught Rodney's eyes a brilliantly wide smile erupted. "Rodney! It's good to see you back with us. We were getting a wee bit concerned," he said, nodding his thanks to the nurse as she moved away.

Beckett moved closer his hands reaching for something, and the head of Rodney's bed began to move, giving him a better view of the room. A cup of water complete with a straw entered his line of vision a moment later.

After taking a sip, he offered Carson a weak smile, a whispered "Thanks" the best he could do.

"Now," Carson said, setting the cup on the bedside table, "how are you feeling? Any discomfort I should know about?"

Rodney shook his head, the movement barely noticeable, but enough for Carson to see. "Tired."

"You've been through quite the ordeal. It's not surprise you're a wee bit peaked," he said, running through some basic tests. Even with the monitors, Carson also insisted on being hands-on, said he trusted himself more than the danged machines. If ever Rodney thought he was living in a sad excuse for a _Star Trek_ series, Carson was proof positive—Bones McCoy incarnate.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Rodney pulled his wandering attention back to the doctor hovering beside him, a controlled expression on his face, as if any movement might spook his patient. Taking a breath, Rodney nodded, his chin dipping down once. "Wraith. Culled."

Beckett nodded, smiling tightly. "That's great. Now, why don't you get some rest? There are some people who'd like to see you once you're up to having visitors."

He didn't respond, instead letting his eyes drift closed as the comforting weight of a hand on his arm and the beeping from the monitors lulled him to sleep.

***

"Doctor Beckett?"

Carson turned, pen held above the chart in his hands, surprised at the sound of his name. He was just outside of Rodney's area in the infirmary, trying to jot everything down before he forgot. Shelly Laurence was standing a few feet from him, looking pale, but certainly alive.

"Lass, what are you doing up this late? Shouldn't you be in your quarters resting?" he asked, taking a step toward her, but her smile stopped him.

"I'm fine. I needed to take a walk. I've been lying down for what feels like a year. And I wanted to thank you for everything you did."

He shook his head, waving his free hand in the air. "I'm just glad everything worked out."

"If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be here and I wanted to thank you. And I wanted to tell you how proud I am to work with you." She offered a smile as she turned to leave, adding the last bit with a smile. "And, you might want to know you have a few strays loitering by the main entrance."

Carson chuckled. "Aye, thanks. I think I might know who's there," he said, moving to drop the chart still in his hands in his office before he headed out to deal with the well-meaning—if guilt-stricken—members of Atlantis.

Shelly nodded offering one last smile as she headed out one of the back doors. Ducking into his office, he dropped the file and pulled off his white lab coat. Anne would keep an eye on Rodney while he was out and about. He wasn't expecting him to wake again until morning in any case.

Moving through the quiet and deserted infirmary, he heard the shuffling of fabric before he saw them—all of them. Sheppard, Lorne, Ronon, Teyla, and Zelenka were spread out in the main ward, most lounging in chairs while Ronon stood at the door.

"Well, what do we have here?" Carson asked, clapping his hands together as five sets of eyes all focused on him. "I do believe I told you I would inform you all when Rodney was able to have visitors."

Sheppard rose to his feet, but it was Lorne who asked the question. "How is he?"

Eyeing the still pale Major, Carson narrowed his eyes, pausing for several long seconds before responding. "He was awake a few minutes ago, but he's exhausted and is sleeping." He saw their instant reaction, but raised his hands to cut off their request. "No, you can't see him. As I just said, he's sleeping, which is exactly what all of you should be doing right now. As soon as he's ready for visitors I'll let you know, but I refuse to let you interfere with the health of one of my patients. Am I understood?" His eyes settled on Sheppard, holding his gaze until he nodded and looked away.

"Good. Now that I'm clear, I don't expect to see you in here again unless you're suffering from some kind of injury. If I do, I’m sure we can find a good reason for you to stay. I'm sure the labs could use another test subject."

"Thank you for the good news, Doctor," Teyla said, rising to her feet. The others grumbled similar replies as they headed out into the corridor.

Once the ward was quiet, he turned, walking deeper into the infirmary, stopping in his office to pick up a hardcover book before finally settling himself down in the chair next to Rodney's bed. He'd sit here for a little while before he went to bed himself. Just watching the rise and fall of his friend's chest as he took each breath was exactly what he needed to see, offering him a strange comfort.

There was a time when he thought he'd never see the man alive, and that was something he didn't even want to consider. Leaning back, he flipped through his book, finding the page he'd left off on and began to read, listening to the monitors and the constant sound of his friend's breathing.

***

When Rodney woke next, everything didn't seem so heavy, so weighed down, but he was still bone weary. It was brighter than it had been before, so some measure of time had passed and it was daytime, or what passed for it in the interior sections of the city.

Shifting a little, he managed to find a more comfortable position without pulling on too many of the wires and tubes. He frowned when one of them tugged, the urge to yank it out great, but he knew better than to cause damage in that particular location. The sticky pads on his chest were pulling at one of the hairs, but it was too much effort to try and dig it out. It wasn't too much of an annoyance—yet.

With no one hovering over him, it gave Rodney the chance to finally take stock of his situation, of how he was feeling. It seemed like he was okay, strangely enough. His memories of the entire situation were spotty at best and from the glimpses he caught, he was glad to not remember.

Nothing hurt. Everything seemed to be in working condition—which was a pleasant surprise. A quick glance over his shoulder and he saw the IV hanging from its place, some kind of liquid nutrition filtering into the shunt taped down to his arm, right in the crook where it bent. Could they have picked a more annoying location? Every movement reminded him there was something stuck in his body, forcing him to keep the limb straight and still.

As if he could actually do that.

Actually, he was happy Carson hadn't been forced to use the feeding tube to make sure he got the proper nutrition. The whole plastic tubing in his nose was far more uncomfortable than the IV.

Shifting again, he tried to straighten the pillows behind him. But with only one hand, he only managed to shove one into a more uncomfortable position and lose the other, watching it tumble down to hit the floor with a disappointing lack of sound.

Damn.

Peering over the side, he watched the pillow for several moments but quickly determined that it wasn't going to move back to his bed without some kind of intervention. While the ATA gene was great, he hadn't figured out how to get things to levitate—yet.

Sighing, he spotted the call button dangling from the side of the bed rail and grabbed it—finally catching it on the second try—pushing the button to summon someone. Maybe they'd have water too.

He didn't have to wait long until Carson wandered in, worry etched into his face. "Are you feeling okay? Is something wrong?"

Rodney shook his head, trying to answer and finding his voice wasn't cooperating. Clearing his throat, he tried again, managing a loud whisper. "Fine. Dropped my pillow. Could use some water, too."

"Oh," Carson's face dropped suddenly, before he sprinted into action. "Of course." He moved around the bed, picking up the pillow and helping to situate everything and easing Rodney back against them.

"Thanks," Rodney said as Carson gave him the cup, helping him hold it steady as his hand shook. After a few pulls on the straw he leaned back, letting the other man take it away.

He placed the cup on the bedside table before dragging the chair over and settling himself into it. "So, how are you feeling his afternoon? You look a little more alert than you did last night."

Rodney shrugged, fiddling a little with the edge of the blanket. His voice, while still subdued had lost some of its roughness. "Okay, I think. Surprised to be here actually."

Something unidentifiable crossed Carson's face for a moment, before a general look of concern returned. "What do you mean?"

Catching Carson's gaze, he replied. "The last thing I clearly remember is a Wraith drone shooting me with a stunner. Everything after that is a bit blurry. I think I remember being on the hive ship, but I'm not even sure. But I couldn't have been because then I certainly wouldn't be here." Taking a breath, he leaned more heavily into the pillows behind him.

When the other man didn't comment immediately, he continued, filling the silence with a subdued, but growing noise. "But if that's the case, why don't I have that annoying paralysis thing those stunners are so known for doing to unsuspecting humans? And why do you have me hooked up to every machine you could find?"

Carson's eyes had dropped during his questions and a put of unease formed in his stomach. "Am I dying?"

"Oh, no," he replied, shaking his head, a patient half-smile on his lips. "Yer fine. And to help clear up some of your memory issues…yes, you were shot by the Wraith and, yes, you were on the hive ship."

Huh. "So, how did I get here?"

"Rescue mission," Carson muttered.

Rodney felt his eyes widen. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not."

"But that's about as close to a suicide mission as you can get."

Carson's eyebrow rose, the silence growing between them. "So," he finally said, "are you up for some visitors?"

"Um…I guess," Rodney replied, puzzled at his friend's reaction. He was missing something.

"Good. I think I saw Radek was hovering in the waiting room just before you buzzed. I can send him in if you'd be interested in some conversation. I'm sure he can give you an update on what's been going on."

"Sure," Rodney replied, leaning back, watching as Carson moved out of the small private area he'd set up. Letting his eyes drift closed, he waited, trying to sort out everything that was running through his mind.

When he opened his eyes again, Radek was perched on the nearby chair, laptop balanced on his knees.

Rodney shifted slightly, grimacing as things pulled, but the other man caught the small movement, quickly shifting his computer to the nearby table and rising to his feet, helping Rodney get settled once again.

After a few sips from the ever-present cup, he finally looked at the other man, finding him drawn and worn-looking. "Are you sure you shouldn't be in here instead of me?" Rodney asked, his voice still more subdued than he'd like. He refused say weak even if he thought it.

Zelenka's eyebrow rose at the comment, shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, his unruly hair even more wild than usual. "Are you sure you are up for visitors? Generally it is custom not to insult those who come to visit the sick."

Rodney scowled.

The scientist waved his hand absently as he settled back into the hard visitor chair. "So you want to know how city is still standing while you…away?"

He nodded, shifting once again, but settling quickly without having Radek jump up again to adjust and fix everything. That had been a little disconcerting.

"Nothing has broken in several days. I believe the department is still a little timid after the explosion the other week. Even Kavanaugh has not come whining about his precious projects although the botany department is waging war about hydroponics gardens." He shrugged, shaking his head, his eyes rolling ceiling-ward. "I believe Doctor Weir was straightening that out. She mentioned that your notes on the project helped her tremendously."

But even as Radek continued to chatter on, listing every project that was currently in progress and each and every experiment, a small part in the back of his mind was stuck on the comment the Czech had made in passing. My notes. He hadn't given any notes to Elizabeth about any kind of hydroponics garden. The only thing he'd written was that overview of what could be done…

But, how had Elizabeth gotten her hands on it?

His eyes fell on the chatting Czech as several things suddenly fell into place, his stomach beginning to clench.

Elizabeth had his notes. The notes on his computer. On the computer in his quarters, behind a door that would only open for him or Radek. A computer that held a note that took him the better part of a week to pen.

Oh no.

"Zelenka," he said, his hushed voice cutting the other man off mid-stream. "How was I rescued?"

Radek pulled off his glasses, rubbing the lenses on his shirt before lifting them back into place. "It was your idea, actually," he said. "When we realized that you had been culled we needed a way to get your off of the hive while also destroying it since it was headed for Atlantis."

"It was headed here?"

"Yes. It seems the Wraith that culled you might have recognized your clothing or something and decided to change course to look for Atlantis. We only had the one hyperspace pause to rescue you and plant the bomb."

This whole situation was going from bad to worse. "The bomb?" he said, feeling some of the blood beginning to drain from his face.

Radek nodded. "The Ancient device. We retrieved the nano-virus, completed the bomb, and Colonel Sheppard's team set it off after they rescued you from the hive. A most fantastic explosion it was said to have made. If only we could re-create the virus, we would have a most effective weapon against the Wraith."

Rodney let his head sink back against the pillows, everything finally settling into place. Not only had he endangered the lives of everyone in the city by his stupid idea, but he'd failed in the one thing he'd set his mind on. And then he'd been culled which ended in him needing to be rescued by the very people that despised him in the first place, putting their lives at risk to save his sorry hide.

Why couldn't the world just leave him alone?

"Rodney?" Radek's voice was hesitant, concerned.

Closing his eyes, he turned his head to the side, away from his guest. "I'm tired. Can the rest wait?"

"Yes, of course," the other man said, the words accompanied by the rustle of clothing as he rose. The scrape of the chair on the floor as it was shoved back against the wall. The sound of Radek's receding footsteps signaled his final departure, which was quickly followed by whispered words just beyond his area.

The soft tread of booted feet drew closer, stopping at his side. "Everything all right, Rodney?"

Carson. He should have known. Opening his eyes, he regarded the other man carefully before replying. "I'm tired and asked Zelenka to come back later. I didn't think it was a requirement to have someone prattle on just for the sake of making noise."

"Are you sure?"

"Can you just go away or is it your job to make sure your patients don't sleep?"

The other man sighed, nodding his head slowly. "Fine. Can I get you anything?"

"Besides peace and quiet? No."

Closing his eyes, he felt—rather than saw—Beckett fiddling with the IV lines, untangling them before adjusting the blanket lying over Rodney. And with a quiet exhalation, he finally left.

From the light touches, the hovering, the overly concerned glances, Rodney knew without a doubt that they knew, they all knew.

He wasn't sure if he was more mortified or angry. He wasn't supposed to be here, not like this, not with them knowing. He was supposed to be all heroic, saving them for the last time with his genius.

He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he'd just made life for himself one hundred times more difficult. There's no way they'd trust him now, ever.

He was trapped in an eternal nightmare that he'd created.

Some genius he was.

***

The next time Rodney opened his eyes, he felt nearly normal—or as close to it as he could be with tubes and wires and _stuff_ stuck in various parts of his anatomy.

And he smelled soup.

Pushing himself up from where he's slumped on the bed—the movement awkward due to the full use of only one of his arms—he spotted a covered tray on the bed table just within his arm's reach.

Grabbing the edge, he pulled it over, positioning it at just the right distance before he finally lifted the cover, a small puff of steam escaping. A small bowl of soup and crackers sat serenely inside.

Dropping the cover on the table, he glanced over his shoulder toward the IV stand and noticed that there was only one bag hanging—nearly depleted—and it was simply saline from the looks of it. Apparently he wasn't dying. It would be nice to get some of the other leads and cables out of the way, though.

Picking up the spoon, he shoved it through the nearly clear broth, discovering a little bit of chicken and noodles hovering at the bottom of the bowl. His stomach growled and he leaned forward, awkwardly spooning some of the lukewarm soup into his mouth.

He closed his eyes, savoring the first mouthful. Who thought chicken noodle soup could taste so good?

He dug into the rest of the bowl, eating the crackers along with the soup, enjoying the first real meal he'd had in…he didn't actually know how long. What day was it anyway? How long had he been on the hive ship? It could be weeks. Months.

Wait, he thought, his spoon hovering over the now empty ceramic bowl. Not weeks or months. It wouldn't have taken that long for the hive to get to Atlantis from 218. Days, maybe.

Days were probably closer to the truth.

But still, he thought, the spoon finally dropping to land on the tray, holding down some of the plastic cracker wrappers as he leaned back against the pillows, enjoying the feeling of a full stomach.

But, he realized, sobering, that this was probably the best he was going to feel in a very long time.

Maybe it was time to go back to Earth, do something a little less risky. He knew his blood pressure would thank him. And he'd appreciate not having to deal with live-sucking aliens or horrible "I could die any minute" situations every day of the week. Hell, everyone in this city would thank him.

Radek would do a good job. He was good. Not as brilliant as he was, but more than enough to get by.

After this, he doubted it was possible to pick up the pieces here. Whatever little respect anyone here had had for him was now gone. If they didn't trust him—if he didn't trust himself—to do the job, maybe it was time for him to move on.

All he wanted to do was to make a difference, to make the people in this city safe. But, instead, all he'd managed to do was to make more enemies and to put them even more at risk. The weapon on Doranda would have been the perfect solution to their power problems and would have meant the end of the Wraith—if he'd only been able to get it to work.

But he hadn't been smart enough, quick enough. Someone died. And a solar system was forever erased from the galaxy.

He didn't want to be responsible for anyone else's death, any other deaths. He had more than enough blood on his hands to last a lifetime.

The sound of a clearing throat startled him, his eyes popping open to regard the figure standing just outside his area.

"How are ye feeling, Rodney?" Carson asked, stepping forward, his eyes drifting to the empty tray. He moved it aside, taking up his position on the side of the bed, his doctor's expression firmly on his face. Even before McKay could respond, he was checking his pulse and observing him like he was some kind of lab experiment.

"Ready to get out of here."

"Aye," he replied, nodding as his eyes slid to the monitors. "I think you're about ready if you agree to take it easy and get some rest."

"Really?" He felt his eyes widening. He thought it would have taken a lot more to get Carson to let him leave.

"Aye, really. If you want I can get rid of some of those wires and tubes. I don't think you need them anymore."

"All of them?"

"All of them," Carson replied, a light, knowing smile on his lips. "I'd like you to take a trip to the bathroom on your own before I release you, but I think everything will work just fine."

"Well, why shouldn't it?" Rodney asked, astounded that it would even be considered. "Nothing ever happened to endanger that."

"Just a precaution, Rodney."

"Sure it is," he said, muttering something about Scottish sheep shearers under his breath, grateful that Beckett hadn't caught the comment.

"And one other thing," Carson said, finishing up the removal of the leads for the heart monitor and reaching for the IV. "Before you can leave, you need to talk to Kate."

Damn. So close, and yet so far.

***

Kate Heightmeyer walked through the infirmary, her eyes drifting over the empty beds, the tables set up alongside in preparation for the next crisis. And there was always another crisis on the horizon here. That was one fact that could not be ignored.

Atlantis was a unique posting. A civilian-run outpost on the front lines in a war they might never win. It was a surprise she wasn't busier than she already was. They'd sent another doctor to join her, but many of the original Atlantis personnel would only talk to her—when they had to.

Rodney McKay was one of them.

He was one of the more…unique cases. When Elizabeth Weir had come to her, showing her the note and explaining the situation, she hadn't been totally surprised. She'd sat on the sidelines, watching as things had developed, watching as he worked himself into the ground.

The note, though, had surprised her. Of all the things she thought him capable of, suicide was not one of them. He was far too concerned about his own self-preservation for that.

A few of the nurses and medics gave her a smile or a nod as she passed, heading first to Carson Beckett's office before she went to visit McKay. Carson had paged her earlier, letting her know Rodney was about ready to be released.

And that meant it was her turn.

Pausing in the doorway, she watched as Carson continued to write in a chart, his pen flowing over the pages spread before him. She waited until he paused before knocking on the frame, offering a smile when he glanced up, annoyance and exhaustion battling on his face.

"Kate," he said, dropping his pen to the top of the desk and rising to his feet. "Thanks for comin' so quickly. We've managed to get him on his feet and while he tires easily, he's more or less back to his normal self." He paused, pulling up a corner of his desk to lean on. "He's still quieter than he should be. Pensive might be a better word. Snappish when anyone tries to do anything. Not that it's new, but…a quiet Rodney is never a good thing."

"I agree," she said, nodding, her hands crossed over her chest. "Anything else I need to know about?"

Carson shook his head. "He was a might bit testy before, but seemed eager to go to his quarters. He wasn't exactly looking forward to your little chat, however."

"I can't imagine he is," she said, sighing. "Ordering someone to talk to me never turns out well. They get too defensive for it to do any real good, but sometimes it does give us a better insight as to what's going on in their heads and provides me with a foundation for the next appointment."

"Aye," he said, his eyes focused somewhere over her shoulder for a long moment before shaking off whatever thoughts were wandering through his mind. "Well, he's still in the critical care area waiting for you. It was easier to leave him there since everything was set up."

"Thanks," she said, offering a smile. "I'll give you an update when I'm done."

"Take all the time you need."

She nodded, moving off toward the section Carson had indicated, the half-lights in this area giving everything a much more subdued feel. Privacy screens set up at the far end caught her attention, and she moved toward them, pausing just outside to watch the scientist through the small opening.

He was leaning back against the pillows, the head of the bed raised so he could see. Dressed in white scrubs, the blue blanket was pulled onto his lap, his hand plucking the edge as he focused on the ceiling.

She stepped closer and he must have caught her movement out of the corner of his eyes because he turned his gaze on her, narrowing his eyes as she pulled the chair closer to the bed, settling down in it. "Rodney," she said by way of a greeting, trying to put him at ease, but from the tension radiating off him, that was going to be difficult, if not impossible.

"Kate." He paused, the word less than a greeting, more a statement. "I'd like to say it was good to see you, but I'd be lying."

Yep, testy was just about right. "Well, neither of us really has a choice at the moment, so why don’t we just go with it and see what happens?"

"Sure," he said, shrugging, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling before he glanced at her again. "As soon as I talk to you, I get to go back to my quarters and actually get some peace and quiet," he said, this voice rising at the end as if he were trying to get someone else's attention.

"You don't like it here?"

"Are you kidding. The staff is obsessed about making sure you don't get any rest. Testing this, checking that, poking here and there. How can you get any sleep if they never leave you alone?"

"And you want to be left alone?"

"Right now? Yes. I swear their hovering is giving me hives," he said, scratching dramatically on his unblemished and unmarked arm.

"You know they mean well. They just want to make sure you're getting better," she said, her voice calm and level. Why did she always feel like she was talking him down off the edge every time she spoke to him? Maybe because it was always at the bitter end of a crisis, when everything was finally catching up with him—and everyone else. Just like it was now.

He glanced at her, his eyes narrowing, his lips drawn in a thin line, the corner of his mouth slanting downward. "Yeah, fine. I know they are. It doesn't make them any less annoying."

"So, do you think it's a good idea for you to finish recuperating in your quarters? If something were to go wrong, or if you needed something, you'd be on your own."

His eyebrow rose at her comment, but he didn't say anything immediately, his blue eyes intense in their examination of her. Something flashed across his face—acceptance, resignation maybe—before he finally spoke again, anger tinting his words. "Look. Let's cut the crap. Okay? You're obviously here to talk to me about a little note I left on my computer. Once we talk about it, I get my 'Get Out of Jail Free' card." His fingers offered air quotations around the phrase.

"Fine," she said, nodding, leaning against the back of the hard, plastic visitor's chair, willing to see where Rodney was going to take this. He was never the one to offer an offensive approach to anything, so this was new. Although, in a way, it worried her. What was he hiding? What was he protecting?

"What were you thinking when you wrote it?"

"That I wasn't going to make it back, of course." He waved his hand absently.

"So…you decided to write a note to Doctor Zelenka." She tried to make her tone neutral, but she could hear her disbelief tinting the statement

He rolled his eyes. "I figured he was going to be the one poking around my computer. Not like anyone else was going to be invading my quarters. And besides, it's not anything new when you get right down to it. This time everyone just happened to get their hands on it and draw all the wrong conclusions."

"They did?" Her eyebrow rose. "So you've written this kind of…note more than once?"

"Of course…" he said immediately before closing his mouth. His eyes shifted to the side. "Well, no. Not really."

She waited.

Sighing, he finally continued after a long pause. "It makes perfect sense, you know. Missions don't always go well and sometimes, when I think it's going to particularly bad, I write notes. If Radek, or someone else had to step in, it only makes sense that I can provide them with the best insight into current projects and other ongoing research. It's not like they pay attention to all the details. That's my job."

"So this time…?"

"Yes. Wraith bearing down on a planet is never a good thing."

"So, this is a…courtesy for the person who has to replace you and everyone just blew it out of proportion."

"Exactly," he replied, snapping his fingers and pointing toward her as he smiled smugly. He crossed his hands over his chest and leaned back into the pillows. "And honestly," he continued, dragging out his right hand to gesture, fluttering back and forth, "if you need to talk to anyone about suicidal tendencies, I think you should consider Colonel Sheppard. Maybe he's not writing notes, but his actions are certainly screaming that he needs some serious help."

Kate nodded, trying to smile. His explanation did make some kind of sense. She knew many soldiers who were on the front lines would write letters to their families…just in case something happened. Maybe this was just Rodney's version.

And maybe horses could fly in the Pegasus Galaxy.

This was Rodney McKay they were talking about.

"So, you're writing this note has nothing to do with your long-term…plans that Doctor Zelenka discovered when he was looking through your computer?"

"Long-term plans?" He huffed, rolling his eyes. "Long-term and suicidal do not exactly belong in the same sentence, let alone the same conversation."

"Okay," she said, inclining her head toward him. "So maybe they were the wrong choice of words." She paused, watching him twitch under her gaze. "What were you really trying to say? That you didn't think you had any other options? That this was the only way you could prove yourself?" He continued to tense and she broke off, her eyes sliding away for a moment, allowing them both to get a modicum of their composure back.

"Rodney, I'm not your enemy."

He chuckled once, harshly, bitterly.

She raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged, his eyes fixed on the corner of the privacy curtain. "It can mean anything you need it to."

She waited for him to continue, but his mouth was set, the muscles along his jaw tight and unmoving. There was something about this entire situation that had been puzzling her from the beginning and sitting here, watching him as he twitched and shifted under her gaze was more telling than any other conversation she'd had with the man.

"You didn't expect to come back to Atlantis again, did you?"

He turned to her, surprise showing on his face for a moment before he pushed it away once again, a scowl replacing it. "What do you expect me to say?"

"I expect you to answer me."

"Fine. No, I didn't think I'd be here again."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Defensive and combative. She'd struck a nerve.

"Why didn't you think you were going to come back to Atlantis?"

He turned away from her, tension radiating off his frame. She wasn't going to let this go, not now.

She waited, watching, her eyes fixed on the man before her even as anger and resentment and fear flowed off him in ever-increasing waves. When he finally did begin speaking, however, his words were quiet, reserved.

"I always thought my brains would be able to make the difference wherever I went, offset everything else." He paused, a long sign punctuating his comment. "I was wrong."

"What did you need to offset"?

He shrugged, face still turned away. "Everything." He paused again, longer this time, obviously lassoing his thoughts. She waited.

"But now it seems that my brains, my genius, isn't what it was cracked up to be. I’m making stupid mistakes that are costing people their lives. How can anyone trust a genius who screws things up all the time?"

"What are you going to do?" Her voice was quiet, trying not to spook the scientist.

"I don't know," he said, the half-chuckle bitter, tired, weary. "I hadn't considered this possibility."

"But, it happened."

"I know."

She paused, hating herself for having to ask. "Should we be worried about you if we release you from the infirmary?"

He turned toward her this time, his eyes clear and focused. "No. I do have other decisions to make, though."

"Rodney?"

"Kate, I need some time to think away from here. Can you give me that?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"That's all I ask." He turned away from her again, slumping down into the pillows.

Kate rose to her feet, exhausted. "I'm always available if you want to talk anything through, if you want another opinion."

He didn't respond and she didn't push. Moving silently out of his area and into the dimly lit infirmary, she walked toward Carson's office. She needed to talk to him, but Elizabeth also needed to know that her CSO might not be coming back to work.

***

Elizabeth Weir glanced across her desk toward Kate and Carson seated in her guest chairs. Both looked uncomfortable, but Carson more so as he perched on the edge as if the little leverage would get him out of her office that much quicker once she gave the word.

Had it really come down to this…unease, mistrust among those who had once been more than simply colleagues, friends even? If she could go back in time and change the way she'd done things, had listened to the advice she'd freely been given by the man across from her would any of this had transpired?

Shaking the thoughts out of her mind, she focused on the matters at hand. "So, what's the prognosis?"

"Medically, I'm prepared to release him tonight. I'm going to insist that he remain off-duty for the next two days, but then he should be ready to get back to work. Light duty first, but I don't even think it will be necessary," Carson replied, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped before him.

"Kate?" she asked the pensive blonde.

"Rodney's an interesting case," she began, her words slow, obviously picking each one carefully. "After reading the note he'd left on his computer and speaking with Doctor Beckett about his possible state of mind prior to the incident I was…concerned. But after speaking with him this afternoon, I'm not so sure I have reason to be."

"You don't?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "He seems to have come through this entire experience well. And in regards to the note, specifically, he did have a very good analogy which I hadn't considered previously. While we don't think of ourselves as being on the front lines, this base is. And, in like conditions on Earth, it is very common for soldiers to write notes such as the one Rodney penned—to loved ones or others."

"Rodney is not a soldier," Carson said, his blue eyes narrowed at the doctor beside him.

"No," she said, inclining her head toward the doctor. "But we've all become people that we might never have bee if we'd stayed home. We've all changed in different ways. Rodney has become a solider in his own way."

"So you think that this is just a normal response due to the stress of the situation?" Weir asked, trying to make sure she was hearing the doctor correctly. "This doesn't have anything to do with the whole incident—"

"Actually, it does," Kate said, cutting off her question. "If it weren't for that specific situation and his subsequent treatment, I don't think he would ever resorted to the actions he took and there would have been no need for the note." She paused, glancing down at her hands before she spoke again, the words coming even slower than before.

"For as…brash and loud and opinionated he is, Rodney thrives in situations where he can make himself useful, solve problems, make a difference."

Weir nodded. John always said Rodney worked best under the threat of death.

"Partially because he craves the attention, but also because of the sense of accomplishment it gives him. Also, because Atlantis has finally given him a place to stretch his wings. We've all heard him talk—or not talk—about his past, about his time spent in Area 51 and Siberia. For the first time in his life, Rodney's found a home, a place where he's respected for who he is and what he brings to the table."

"And?" Carson asked, his forehead furrowing. This was somewhat similar to what he'd said to her a few days ago.

"When he lost your trust, I’m sure it was about as devastating a blow he could have received. If this was his family," she said, gesturing to Atlantis as a whole, "in a way you kicked him out of his house, leaving him on the sidewalk with whatever he could carry out. How would someone react when placed in a similar situation?"

"They would get angry," Weir said.

"Yes, that's one response," Kate replied. "But there's another one. They'd try to fix what went wrong, set things right so that it was safe to come home once again. Rodney, I think, picked the second option."

"So this Ancient device?"

Kate nodded. "I think it was a way for him to fix things."

"But he had to have known that it was a suicide mission. He'd read the notes from the Ancient scientists," Carson said, sitting up straight, a frown on his face.

"Yes, which is why he wrote the note because he didn't think he'd be coming home."

"So everything he did…" Weir began, her words trailing off as her mind quickly cycled through everything.

Kate nodded, understanding in her eyes. "Everything he did was to make sure that Atlantis and everyone in her, would be safe." She paused, a tight smile finding its way to her face. "In a way, he's become a lot like Colonel Sheppard: willing to take risks for the benefit of others. Which, for Rodney, is a huge growth step for him. A year ago, he wouldn't have been able to."

"But that's not the kind of growth we need to see," Carson protested, indignation on his face as he rose to his feet.

Kate turned in her chair to face the pacing doctor. "Whether you want to see it or not, it seems to be what's happening. Like I said, we've all changed in probably more ways that we'd ever imagined. But now, we need to learn how to live with those changes—in everyone."

"So, what now?" Weir asked after nearly a full minute of silence, each of them buried in their own thoughts and feelings of guilt, remorse, and understanding.

"Now, we wait to see what Rodney wants to do—and support any decisions he has to make. He has to make up his mind. We can't do that for him."

"And if he wants to leave?" Carson asked, bitterness in his voice.

"Then, I suggest, you let him."

***

John Sheppard paused just outside the main science lab, peering in. He spotted Zelenka at one of the larger workstations, positioned off to the side—the one normally occupied by Rodney when he decided to taunt and harass the department.

Moving cautiously through the room, he offered a tight smile to those who glanced up at him, but didn't stop. The conversation he'd had with Lorne still stuck in his mind and he had to check something out—hopefully with the assistance of one scientist. If anyone could get into the system it was Zelenka.

"Doctor Z?"

John stopped, waiting for the other man to give him permission to step closer. He'd seen the looks, the glares, over the past few days. He knew he wasn't high on Radek's list of favorite people right now. Hell, he wasn't on his own list.

The Czech looked up from the computer screen he'd been examining, his eyes narrowing. "Colonel, you wanted something?"

He nodded, moving to lean his hip against the side of the workstation, trying to adopt a non-threatening pose. He doubted his "aw-shucks" expression would do him much good. "I wanted your help."

Radek was already turning away. "With Rodney in the infirmary, I am busy. Perhaps—"

"It's about McKay," John cut in, hoping he hadn't lost the other man's attention.

Zelenka's eyes narrowed further, but he was still listening, his eyes drifting back and forth between the screen and John's face. His hand dug into the pocket of his white lab coat, pulling out a chocolate bar, ripping off a piece of the wrapper to take a bite. John took that as an opening to continue.

"Something Lorne said has got me thinking."

"Oh? I was not sure that was possible."

Sheppard winced, but the jibe was well deserved. He knew he'd been an ass.

"I can't seem to get into the older security camera feeds and I need to check the camera closest to McKay's quarters."

Radek raised an eyebrow, taking another bite of the Bounty bar, but didn't comment.

"I know you can probably find the information in the system and I have no idea where to start."

The scientist pulled the wrapper over the half-eaten bar, setting it on the far side of the table away from John. "Of course I can find camera feeds. Why do you want them?"

John sighed. "It was something Lorne said about the guards, about what I had ordered them to do. Whether you believe me or not, I didn't order them to do anything, but something happened and I want to know what."

Radek stared at him for a long moment before pursing his lips and nodding. Shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with an unconscious gesture, he turned to the keyboard and began closing out windows before opening up another screen.

John moved around behind the scientist to look over his shoulder. The screen changed quickly, some even before Sheppard could see what was on them and then they were suddenly in a database of security footage. He'd been in this screen before, but it never held the vast amount of information he saw before him.

"How did you do that?"

"You do not ask those questions, Colonel," Radek said firmly before continuing, "You are looking for the camera outside Rodney's quarters, yes?"

"Yes."

"And the timeframe?"

"Um…start the day of the…incident."

Radek glanced over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised, but he didn't comment. "One moment."

His fingers flew over the keyboard again, pausing every now and then as he waited for the requested information to be called up onto the screen. About five minutes later, he had finally narrowed down the camera footage.

"Here," Radek said, gesturing to the screen. "This is exactly one week of camera feeds from the camera closest to Rodney's quarters. It is not very good and it is not very close, but it is the best I can provide."

John shook his head, frowning at the poor quality. Of course Rodney would know how to pick his quarters away from the security cameras so he could sneak out to the labs.

"I'll take it."

"Do you wish for me to off-load it to a drive for you?"

"Actually, would you mind helping out?"

Radek glanced at him again for a long moment before nodding. "Perhaps. It looks like my schedule has opened up suddenly." He turned back to the computer, his hand poised above the keys. "And I must thank you for bringing Rodney back," he said, the words quiet. "He would have been…missed."

John nodded, pulling up a stool. "Yes, he would have been."

***

Carson made him wait until it was nearly time to go to bed before he gave Rodney his walking papers.

The doctor strolled into the curtained off area sporting a smile that made Rodney uneasy. Sitting up quickly, one of the pillows behind him sliding to the floor. "So? You leave me here to slowly go stir crazy nearly all day after telling me I was allowed to leave after talking to Kate. What's the hold up?"

Beckett paused, an eyebrow rising, his arms crossing over his chest. "Is that any way to talk to the person who is going to let you leave?"

Rodney folded his arms, his casual shirt riding up a little in the front. It was bigger than it had been the last time he'd worn it, but it didn't matter. He could afford to lose a little weight. "Well?" he asked instead, scowling at the man standing at the foot of the bed, his chart in his hand.

The silence stretched between then for a long moment, each man refusing to back down in the staring battle first. Carson finally glanced away, nodding. "Aye. You can go, but you're to stay off-duty for the next two days. You need to rest and get your strength back. After that, you can return to duty, but that will be dependant upon how you're feeling. There's no need to rush back into things right away."

"So," Rodney said, sliding off the bed, steadying himself as the room tilted for a moment. He hoped Carson hadn't noticed, but knowing the mother hen standing a few feet from him, he probably did. Straightening up, he set his jaw and turned. "I can go, right?"

Carson nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. "Aye. You can go back to your quarters, but I'm glad that at least you'll be accompanied. I don't want to see you back in here ten minutes after you leave."

"Accompanied?" he asked, moving cautiously toward the doctor who moved to his side as they walked out toward the main entrance.

"You have…escorts."

Rodney's eyebrow rose and she glanced sideways to Beckett. "Care to elaborate?"

Carson gestured toward the entrance as they turned the corner, Rodney stopping in his tracks.

"What are you doing here?"

Major Lorne, Ronon, and Teyla glanced up from where they were seated in the waiting room, patient exasperation on their faces.

"And we're happy to see you too, McKay," Lorne said, rising to his feet. "The doc said you were ready to go back to your quarters but mentioned that you needed an escort. We figured we'd do the honors."

Rodney turned back to Carson, his eyes wide. "This was your idea?"

Beckett nodded, innocence etched into his entire demeanor. "Enjoy their company, Rodney, and relax. You deserve it."

McKay muttered under his breath as he eyed the three people waiting for him. He nodded finally, realizing that he had no say in this at all if he expected to actually leave the infirmary. "Fine. Let's go," he said, gesturing for them to walk out first. He followed behind, shooting Carson a threatening glare before the doors slid shut.

Teyla had said something to him he realized, turning his attention back to the three of them hovering nearby. He turned his attention to her, trying not to scowl as much. They were trying to be nice to him. "Sorry?"

"Food, McKay," Ronon answered instead. "Interested?"

He glanced at the Satedan, trying to figure out what was going through his mind, but he was never good at reading the warrior. He didn't speak Neanderthal.

"And then will you all leave me alone?" he finally asked.

Teyla was the one who answered him. "If that is what you desire, yes. We are not here to make you uncomfortable. We thought that you might…enjoy our company."

"Fine," he said, forcing his legs to move quicker down the hall. The faster he got this over with, the sooner he could be in his quarters away from their pitying looks and seemingly well-meaning gestures. He knew the real reason behind their actions and nothing they said or did was going to change his mind.

***

Radek Zelenka's eyes widened as Sheppard paused the video feed again, adding another notation to the pad at his side, now filled with several pages of times and dates and actions.

He'd had no idea that the guards had done this. And from Sheppard's increasingly tense and angry demeanor, it was obvious he hadn't either. Lorne had probably only guessed at what had occurred from the few clues he'd seen or observed and Radek doubted he knew the full extent of the guards' actions.

They had terrorized Rodney with pranks even ten-year-olds would have considered immature. Ringing doorbells. Pounding on doors.

The times between events varied—some within only a few moments, others as long as twenty minutes.

But it was continuous.

No wonder Rodney had finally taken apart his door-chime. But the pounding he could do nothing about except try to ignore.

As the final scene from the camera footage faded from the monitor, Sheppard slowly placed his pen on the pad and rose to his feet, every movement sharp. He began to move around the room, more a stalking gait, his hands clenched as fists along his sides.

"Colonel?"

Sheppard glanced his way, his eyes hard, shaking his head. Radek could read the gesture instinctively. The 'not now' vibes were very evident.

He waited while the other man prowled around the room—sometimes silent, other times muttering to himself. Radek barely caught any of the words and the ones he did were not complimentary.

It took him nearly five minutes to calm down, his initial anger gradually declining until it was just a slow burn instead. "How did I miss this?"

Apparently the Colonel's anger was at more than just the guards.

Radek tilted his head, letting his hands rest on the edge of the desk. He held the other man's gaze for a full minute before finally responding simply with truth. "You were not looking." He paused before continuing, his voice dropping lower, the admission nearly a physical pain. "Neither was I."

"How could they even think that this was acceptable behavior?"

Radek paused again, trying to choose his words, but he also knew this was not the time to sugarcoat his response. Sheppard needed to hear this if he was ever going to mend his friendship with Rodney—if that was even possible. "First, you did not stop it. Second, your…attitude was of little assistance at the time. I fear it may have encouraged their behavior."

Running a hand through his hair, Sheppard turned away, striding to the other side of the room, keeping his back to Radek as he stared at the wall. Zelenka could see the muscles under the Colonel's jacket shifting, tensing and twitching. "I never meant for that to happen."

"But it did."

"I know." The words were quiet, nearly masked in a long exhalation.

"Then I ask you this: you now have this information, what comes next?"

Sheppard turned, fear etched into the lines of his face. "I'm not sure. I don't even know how to make this right."

Radek nodded slowly. "I cannot help anymore. The rest you must do yourself."

"I know and if I screw this up there's a high probability I'll never get the chance to fix it again."

Radek nodded, glad that the Colonel realized the depth of the situation, of his own errors in judgment.

"You are correct. While Rodney can be forgiving, he does not suffer fools easily. And you, Colonel Sheppard, are a fool."

***

Dinner—or what had been referred to as dinner in the minds of everyone except Rodney—had been a horribly uncomfortable affair. Thankfully, the mess had not been busy, which meant he could eat without the stares of an entire room-full of people.

It was bad enough having three sets of eyes watch him as if they were waiting for him to disappear or die suddenly because he choked on a single macaroni.

This must be what a fish in a fishbowl felt like.

Conversation had been mostly one-sided, Lorne and Teyla trying to fill the silence with tales of their routine schedules, skirting the topic of the rescue mission and the culling entirely. Ronon concentrated mainly on his food, glancing up every now and then to look at him, staring at him for a few long and intense seconds before going back to his meal.

He wasn't really hungry.

After pushing the food around on his plate for about twenty minutes and grunting in response to their questions and comments, he finally gave up, claiming exhaustion. They nearly fell over each other as they moved to escort him to his quarters—even after he protested that he knew the way.

Rodney swore it was only his loud and extremely emphatic exclamations that he was fine that made them leave without tucking him into his bed.

Now, slumped against the door, locks engaged, he finally relaxed, letting his muscles loosen a little as he took several long shuddering breaths. Pushing off, he yanked his clothing from his body, dropping it as he walked to the bathroom.

He needed to feel clean. He swore he could still feel the web from the Wraith cocoon on his skin.

Turning on the water, he adjusted it with a quick mental command, the steam already filling the small room. He stepped inside, letting it pour over him, raising the temperature a few degrees more as his body adjusted.

He leaned against the wall, arms up, head resting on his folded forearms, letting the water pound into his back as he tried to ease the tension in his entire frame, loosen up his muscles, and finally get warm again. Ever since he'd been rescued, he'd had this chill in his body, something sleep hadn't been able to chase away.

He didn't know how long he stood there—the water cascading down his pale skin, washing every last remnant of the Wraith down the drain—before the shaking began.

He turned, leaning his back into the wall as he slowly slid downward, arms curling around his bent legs, pulling them closer to his body as his head dropped to rest on his knees. The water continued to pour down over his head, down his back and arms, his salty tears mixing with the fresh, clean water.

Finally spent, he dragged himself from the shower. Drying off slowly, methodically, he found a clean pair of boxers and an old long-sleeved t-shirt and slid into bed, turning the lights off with a mental sigh.

He'd miss this.

Turning over onto his stomach, he tucked his hands down along his sides and let his exhausted mind and body fall into a dreamless sleep.

***

He woke stiff and sore, the bright early morning sun illuminating his entire room.

Groaning, Rodney rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he allowed himself to drift, waking up slowly, enjoying the peace. There wouldn't be many more mornings like this.

He finally rose, stumbling toward the bathroom, slowly meandering through a shortened version of his normal morning routine. He wasn't in the mood to shave and since he was off-duty there was no need to drag out a clean uniform.

He shivered a little in the cool room as he moved to the closet, dragging the door open. Pulling on a pair of old jeans, he quickly located another shirt, yanking it over his head without paying attention to what he'd grabbed, scowling when he realized it was short-sleeved. Although, between the two shirts he should be warm enough.

Rescuing a pair of socks from the bottom of a drawer, he sat in his desk chair, tugging them on along with his shoes as his laptop started up. At least Radek had returned it to his quarters instead of leaving it some unknown location in the city. If he'd had to go searching for his own laptop he would have been royally pissed.

Disabling the automatic program he'd set up, he pulled up his email and began sorting through the messages. Most were expected. Project updates. Requests for equipment. Request for special use of a Mark II generator. Everything had been cc'd to Radek, so unless it appeared as a second request, Rodney ignored it.

Scrolling through the messages, there were several—more than several from the looks of it—that were anonymous, that looked suspiciously like spam. Although knowing the scientists on the project anything was possible. He'd check them later.

Finding the updated schedule of the Daedalus, he confirmed the ship's arrival and departure dates. Then, bringing up a blank word processing document, he quickly composed two letters, re-reading and editing each before saving them to the hard drive. He printed off two copies to the small inkjet printer he had in his room—complete with Atlantis letterhead he'd made a few weeks after their initial arrival in the city.

He might as well use it now.

Folding each into threes, he creased the edges with his thumbnail. One he dropped into the top drawer of his desk. He didn't need it immediately. The other he set aside, next to his open laptop. He needed to remember to bring it when he left his quarters.

Rolling his shoulders a little, he brought up the window holding all of his email messages and began sorting through the ones he'd ignored. Several were spam, as he expected, but the others…

He had to read the first one twice before the words finally settled into his mind.

He closed it quickly, pulling up another.

And another.

And another.

He didn't want to read anymore of the vicious remarks, the biting words, the not so subtle innuendos, but he had to know if they were all the same.

Even as his chest tightened, he plowed on every word and phrase burning itself into his mind.

_"…should have died…"_

_"…would be better off without your type around…"_

_"…deserve everything you get…"_

_"…about time someone else gets the glory…"_

_"…can't believe they even mounted a rescue mission…"_

_"…should have let the Wraith have you…"_

With shaking fingers, he pulled up the source coding in the messages, looking for a clue, anything, as to who the author was, but he couldn’t trace anything. They all led back to his IP address—a dead end since he knew he hadn't sent them to himself.

There were too many people in this city that were capable of this kind of computer hacking. That's what you get for filling a city with brilliant scientists. There was no way to narrow it down, and honestly, was it even worth the effort?

Saving each and every message, he locked down his computer before rising to his feet and grabbing the sheet of paper roughly in his right hand before stalking out the door.

He could feel the eyes on his back. They watched him, judged him.

This would end. Now.

***

Elizabeth Weir nodded to Doctor Carolyn Edwards, offering a smile to the woman as she got up to leave. Thankfully, the discussion this morning about the possible hydroponics gardens had not dissolved into an argument. After some time to think about the situation, Edwards had finally agreed to wait until further study of the systems already built into Atlantis could be used to her advantage.

One less department conflict.

As Edwards left, however, she spotted Rodney hovering, dressed casually in jeans and two t-shirts, a grey long-sleeved shirt under a short-sleeved green one. He looked….strange, awkward. It was odd not to see him in his usual uniform, but since he was off-duty for the next day or so under medical supervision, it was perfectly fine—just different.

As Edwards walked past him, his expression darkened, his eyes watching her as she moved through the control room to disappear down the stairs.

Weir's eyebrow rose at his behavior, her feeling of unease growing exponentially when he turned and began walking toward her office, determination and what looked like tightly controlled anger on his face.

He began speaking even before she could offer any greeting, the venom in his voice physically pushing her back several inches, her body pressed tightly against the seat.

"I took the liberty of checking the schedule for the Daedalus and I plan to be on board when it leaves for Earth in ten days. This," he said, dropping a single sheet of folded paper on her desk, the edges crisp while one side looked a little wrinkled, as if he'd held onto it too tightly, "should make it official and self explanatory."

She glanced between the paper and the man nearly vibrating before her.

"I'll present my other paperwork to General Landry personally once I return to the SGC."

"Rodney—" she began, picking up the page, unfolding the edges, praying that this was not what she thought it was, what it seemed to be. Her mind keep flowing back to what Kate had said to the question Carson had posed.

_"And if he wants to leave?"_

_"Then, I suggest, you let him."_

It was unthinkable, but it was happening in slow motion and she couldn't look away. This was like her worst nightmare coming true and the only thing she could do was to let it happen, to show her support because it was that very lack of support in the past that had gotten them to this situation in the first place.

"I don't want anything from you, Doctor Weir," he said, cutting her off, her name dropping from his lips coated with distain. "But I can take this up with the IOA if you refuse to accept it. If that happens, you can expect to have a full investigation into this entire affair and I, for one, would welcome it."

He narrowed his eyes.

"You talked about a lack of professionalism and about me handling myself inappropriately, but I've never seen anything handled so unprofessionally. I expected better of you of all people. I thought you knew how to deal with situations, people, but I guess I was wrong. I was never a good judge of character."

He paused again, expelling his breath in a quick huff. "Maybe Kavanaugh is right. Maybe you're not fit to command Atlantis."

She inhaled, the air sticking in her throat, her eyes widening.

"Between the insults, the treatment, the imprisonment, and the general feelings of hostility from everyone on this base thanks to your sterling leadership skills, I'm done. Good luck fighting the Wraith, Doctor Weir, because you're going to be lucky to survive another year."

Turning on his heel, he stormed out of her office nearly knocking John Sheppard from his feet.

He shook his head, approaching her cautiously, his gaze drawn back to the tornado that was Rodney McKay as he vanished from sight.

"Elizabeth," he asked moving closer to her as she looked down, trying to read the letter in her shaking hands. "What just happened?"

The words leapt off the page.

_I, Doctor Rodney McKay, am tendering my resignation from Atlantis effective immediately._

"Elizabeth?"

She glanced up, realizing this was not first or second time he'd called her name.

She shook her head slightly, as if the movement would snap her back into reality, but the room and everything in it—chairs, walls, furniture, John standing before her, and the letter in her hand—all stayed exactly the same.

"Rodney just resigned."

"He what?" He turned, his body suddenly vibrating with nearly the same intensity as the one who'd just left. He whipped back around, his eyes wide, disbelief etched into face. "He can't."

She held out the letter, the sheet shaking. "He did."

"But he can't. I won't allow it."

"John—" she called, but he was already gone, racing through the control room and down the stairs. She let her arm drop, her hand opening as the single sheet of McKay-made Atlantis stationary drifted to stop in the center of her desk still bearing the creases of the folds.

Leaning forward, she cradled her head in her hands.

What had they done?

***

It was hard to ignore the shouting from Weir's office or the two people nearly running through the control room.

Sergeant Brian Whitmore tried to keep his head down most of the time, but lately…things had been interesting. This, though, had to be the topper.

Once he was sure the coast was clear he made sure his radio was on the private channel and tapped it on, connecting him with the other techs on duty. "Need something, Brian?" Captain Patrick Murphy replied and leaning forward, Brian could spot the man at the far end of the gateroom working on something.

"I think McKay just resigned. I have to tell Zelenka. I need two minutes. Can you watch the boards?"

"Sure thing," Murphy replied, already heading up the stairs.

As soon as the red-haired man crested the top of the stairs, Brian glanced toward Weir's office, noting that she was still holding her head in her hands, and he moved off to the nearest balcony, tapping his radio to contact the scientist as he stepped outside.

"Whitmore to Zelenka."

A minute passed before the Czech answered, his voice weary. "Yes, what, Brian?"

"I figured you needed to know this. I think McKay just resigned."

"What!"

"He ran out of Weir's office like a bat out of hell after shouting at her."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know, but Sheppard ran after him a few minutes later."

Zelenka uttered several soft curses in Czech. "I must go. Please inform Major Lorne of this development. Radek out."

After the radio went dead, Whitmore shook his head, but did as the doctor ordered. "Whitmore to Lorne, please respond."

***

"He what?" Major Lorne was stopped dead in the middle of the East Pier, sweat dripping from him as he tried to complete his run. He had work to do this morning, so he'd put this off until he had more time.

Rubbing his towel briskly over his face as Whitmore explained what he thought had happened Lorne realized he didn't have much time. And angry McKay coupled with an equally angry and guilty Sheppard was an explosion waiting to happen. They needed to talk, but not like this.

His legs pumping as he began to run again, re-tracing his steps, he signed off with the gate technician and contacted Teyla.

They'd help find them, but Atlantis was big and they could be anywhere.

***

"This is Beckett," Carson replied, answering the call absently. It didn't sound urgent, so he wasn't ready to start panicking yet.

"We may have need of your services shortly," Zelenka said, his words rushed, his voice shakier than normal.

"Radek, what's wrong?"

"Rodney has resigned and Colonel Sheppard has run after him to convince him otherwise. I do not foresee a good ending to this."

"Crap." Carson glanced around the infirmary, already locating his kit with his eyes. "Where are they?"

"I do not know. Lorne should know by now."

"Ronon? Teyla?"

"I imagine they are on Lorne's list to contact."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Where might Rodney go if he was angry? Do you have any idea?"

"Actually, there are a few places…"

***

Ronon raced through the halls of Atlantis, trying not to run but his long, quick strides forced Teyla to jog in order to keep up with him. They were convening in Radek's lab to try and use the internal sensors to find the two men.

Lorne had sounded…worried.

Ronon wasn't sure who was more at risk, but he'd put his bets on McKay for this round. The scientist probably had a vicious right hook if he put his weight behind it.

***

Rodney leaned against the railing somewhere on the north side of Atlantis, his entire body still vibrating with anger. He'd had to get away from Elizabeth, Doctor Weir—whatever the hell he called her now—or he might have said something else, more revealing, more scathing.  

So he'd come here, as far as he could get from her and from everyone else in this damn city.

He liked this balcony. It was out of the way and no one else used it—at least as far as he knew. He came here often, especially when he needed to get away, to give his mind a chance to rest or to really think something through.

Over the past year and a half, he'd come to know this particular spot very well.

His mind drifted, the anger dissipating slowly, the edge not quite as sharp as it had been. It had felt good to get it off his chest, but another part of him was still cringing, wondering when things went so wrong, when he'd gone wrong.

When had he lost his touch, his edge? He chuckled humorlessly. His sanity?

The whoosh of the opening balcony doors drew his attention, but the voice turned him around.

"McKay, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

***

John Sheppard ran through the halls of Atlantis, a life signs detector in his hand. He'd swung by the locker room where all his team's gear was stored and had dug it out of McKay's vest. He'd return it later, once he beat some sense into the physicist.

He knew several of McKay's haunts, places he'd retreat to when things got to be a little too much. John had checked some of the closer ones first, but knew the scientist wasn't going to stay close to home. After everything, he was going to find himself a nice little balcony as far from everything and everyone as possible.

Which was why John was headed toward the North pier.

There was a spot John liked to visit—one he'd discovered after following McKay there months ago when the scientist was wandering the halls at 0300.

As he got closer, he pulled up the device, his mouth pulling up at the corner when he discovered one other life sign. He'd found him.

Moving quickly, he climbed several flights of stairs before dashing down the final hallway, charging through the doors.

McKay twitched when he stepped through, but it wasn't until he spoke that the scientist turned around.

"McKay, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

***

His initial shock evaporated, leaving the anger to ignite once again as soon as McKay caught sight of the man standing across from him, a life signs detector in his hand, anger on his face.

"It’s none of your damn business, Colonel," he replied coldly, turning his back, concentrating on the view beyond the railing.

He heard rushed footsteps behind him before a hand on his shoulder roughly turned him around, coming face-to-face with the Colonel. "It _is_ my damn business, McKay. I'm not accepting your resignation."

McKay shook off the hand, taking several steps away from Sheppard, one arm still on the rail at his side. "I'm a civilian, Colonel," he said, putting as much distain on the title as he could. "I don't answer to you."

"The hell you don't. You're a member of my team."

"Since when?"

***

John felt his mouth drop open and his eyes widen momentarily before he stepped forward, his hand rising, finger pointing.

"Since when? How dare you even question it!"

"Why shouldn't I? It's not like you care whether or not I'm there until there's a problem you need solved. Then it's 'oh, McKay can do it'. I'm done fixing your mistakes."

"My mistakes?" Sheppard laughed humorlessly, taking a step back as he threw up his hands. "Yeah, McKay, let's talk about mistakes."

"Why? Feel like rubbing Doranda in yet again?" The scientist's eyes blazed. "I think I've done more than enough to make up for that particular screw up, or did you have something else in mind? Didn't get your kicks from what you've already done? Need to try something else? Oh wait…maybe you don't want me to leave because you need someone to blame for your own screwed up decisions, someone to cover your ass. Well, guess what, Colonel? You can find yourself another whipping boy. This one is finished."

McKay moved off, stepping closer to the side of Atlantis as if he was trying to get around Sheppard, but this wasn't over by along shot. Sheppard grabbed the other man's arm as he passed, pulling him back.

"Oh, no, you're not," Sheppard said, releasing the scientist sharply, making him stumble into the wall, hitting his shoulder. McKay's eyes widened, the white showing around the blue-grey irises.

Sheppard let his hand drop, surprised by his response and his own anger. McKay straightened, chin coming up as he crossed his arms over his chest. "So we're resorting to violence now? Or should I expect a Marine to dash in through the doors to do your dirty work?"

"I had nothing to do with that and those men are going to be brought up on charges," John said through gritted teeth, the words forced out.

"That's hard to believe. They're your men, Colonel."

"They weren't acting under orders."

"Sure, they weren't," McKay said, disbelief and anger clearly evident on his face. "You know, if you and Elizabeth don't accept my resignation, I'd like to see you try to explain that to the judge."

***

Rodney watched as John's face closed down, his anger descending into something colder, his eyes watching him intently, calculating every small movement he made.

When Sheppard finally spoke into the silence that had only been broken by their own wheezing and huffed breaths, it was as if all emotion had drained from the man, leaving only the soldier, the military commander of Atlantis. It was just as well. His friend had left him weeks ago.

"You won't do it."

McKay narrowed his eyes, shifting on his feet. "What makes you think I won't?"

He tilted his head, the dark eyes never leaving Rodney's face. "Because this has gone far enough and I'm not going to let it continue."

Rodney chuckled bitterly, rolling his eyes skyward as he shook his head. "Oh, that's a laugh. You still think the world is going to stop on your command; that everyone will just lay down and take what you continue to dish out." He turned, stepping forward, his finger pointing to his own chest. "I'm not like everyone else."

"But you're still on my team and what I say, goes."

"No, no, no, you are mistaken, Colonel. I resigned. And I don't answer to you."

"McKay—" Sheppard growled, taking a step into Rodney's space, causing him to stumble back a few steps until he hit the wall again, pinned there like a butterfly in a collection.

"What? What else do you want from me? I've given you everything you've ever asked for—whatever anyone's asked—and what do I get in return? Scorn. Ridicule. Hatred. I've been locked up, treated no better than a prisoner—hell, I think some of the Wraith we had in the holding cells were treated better than I've been. I've been continuously terrorized by the military. I've lost whatever respect I'd earned with the science staff. And to top it off, as if personal, in-your-face insults aren't sufficient, it seems everyone has resorted to handing out electronic abuse on a regular basis, because apparently I'm not suffering enough on my own. I'm a pariah. Not wanted anywhere by anyone. It may have taken me a while to figure it out, but I've finally gotten the message loud and clear."

He paused, his mouth a thin, hard line, the corners dropping in a scowl. "I refuse to stay where I'm not wanted."

***

Not wanted? Behind his cold, hard mask, John Sheppard was baffled. How could McKay think that he wasn't wanted, or needed?

"What the hell has been going on, McKay?" he growled.

"Exactly what you wanted to happen," the scientist shot back. "Did you think that your little punishment would have no lasting effects? Did you think it would tame the beast, make me easier to push around? Did you and Elizabeth sit in her office and come up with new and inventive ways to torment me?"

"What?" Sheppard said instinctively, watching as McKay moved several feet to the side before he stopped once again, his blue eyes narrowing.

"You heard me. You may be stupid, but I know your hearing is just fine."

"What makes you think we don't want you on Atlantis?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said, shrugging, his hands waving widely. "Everything?"

"McKay—"

"Look, while you might be enjoying this whole 'let's pound on the resident genius' I’m not finding this entertaining. And, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere else I need to be—which, actually, is anywhere you're not." He paused as the doors to the city slid opened before him. Glancing over his shoulder, he added a final remark, his voice tinted with weariness and anger; his eyes for a brief moment flashing with something that seemed like regret before hardening once again. "You should be celebrating, Colonel. Ten more days and I'll be out of your hair forever."

The panels whooshed closed as soon as McKay stepped into the hall, headed away from the closest transporter, and deeper into some of the barely-searched sections of the city.

Sheppard let him go, turning to lean against the railing, all his anger draining away, leaving him exhausted.

Until now, John didn't realize how bad things had gotten, just how far they'd pushed McKay away.

Was there anything left to salvage? Would the stubborn physicist even want to?

With his elbows on the railing, he leaned down, resting his head in his hands and listening to the surf pound against the city far below.

***

It was difficult for a group of five to be silent while they rushed through the halls of Atlantis, trying desperately to be the first to get to the balcony on the far side of the city without tripping over each other. When they were in the lab, they'd been able to find two life signs on a balcony Carson knew Rodney frequented. But it still took time to hike to the other side of Atlantis—even with the help of the transporters. Rodney had picked this specific location due to its isolated nature.

Lorne was in the lead followed by Ronon and Radek, with Teyla and Carson bringing up the rear. Carrying the life signs detector certainly had its advantages.

"I'm only getting one reading." Lorne whispered as they paused just around the corner from the balcony in question.

"Only one?" Teyla frowned, glancing at the Major. "Did we not see two life signs before?"

Radek shrugged. "Someone must have left."

"We did not pass anyone," Teyla commented, glancing back the way they'd come.

"Who is it?" Carson whispered, drawing a long-suffering look from the major.

"It doesn't say," Lorne replied, rolling his eyes. "All I know is that there's one blinking dot and it's human."

Beckett shook his head, moving around the Major, headed for the door. After only taking one step, someone snagged his elbow. "Where are you going?" Lorne hissed, pulling the doctor around.

"To find out who the bloody hell is there," he replied, yanking his arm out of the Major's grasp as he strode onto the balcony.

He stopped suddenly, mid-step, when he caught sight of the man leaning heavily on the rail at the far side of the balcony, head in his hands.

"Colonel?" Carson said, moving closer, the shuffle of feet behind him indicating the rest had followed.

The man uncurled a little, his back tightening as he straightened and turned. His eyes met Carson's first, hesitantly, before angling over his shoulder to look behind. They widened spotting the crowd hovering in the doorway.

"You wanted something?" Sheppard looked back at Carson, annoyance and amusement on his face. "You could have used the radio."

"Where's Rodney?" Beckett asked instead, his eyes hardening a little.

John shrugged, turning back to the railing. "Not here, obviously."

Teyla stepped forward, her voice kind and gentle. "Colonel, do you know where he might be?"

He shook his head, his eyes on the horizon. "He walked out the door a while ago, headed further out. I didn't stop him. I don't think he's in the mood to chat."

"Colonel," Radek said, stepping forward. "Is what we heard true? That Rodney has resigned?"

John turned, anger in his eyes. "He'll resign over my dead body. We need him here."

"Did you tell him?" Ronon asked, leaning against the door, his arms folded over his chest.

Sheppard's head came up, his eyes focusing on the Satedan. "Not in so many words."

Ronon's eyes darkened, but he didn't comment, leaving the air heavy between them. The squawk of the citywide intercom, however, sliced through the silence.

"Control to Sheppard."

Carson glanced at the Colonel, eyes narrowing. "Isn't your radio on?"

Sheppard shook his head, pulling the headset from his pocket. "I didn't want to be interrupted."

Tugging the earpiece in place, he tapped the radio. Since Carson didn't hear the corresponding echo in his own ear, he knew the Colonel had gone to a private channel.

"This is Sheppard," he answered wearily. Listening for a moment, he nodded before speaking again. "Yes, I found him, and no, I don't think he's going to change his mind."

Carson threw a raised eyebrow toward the other man, who narrowed his eyes at him, but didn't make any other gestures.

"That might be a good idea and they're all right here. See you in ten. Sheppard out."

Tapping his radio off, he glanced down for a moment, taking a breath, before raising his head once again. "Elizabeth wants to talk about this…situation in her office. She thinks it might be a good idea for all of us to be there."

"What about McKay?" Lorne asked quietly.

"I'll keep an eye on him" Ronon said, pushing off against the wall and heading down the corridor Rodney had disappeared into.

"Keep in contact!" John yelled at the warrior's retreating back. Shaking his head, he glanced at the people before him, his gaze resting with each of them.

"So, shall we try to figure out how to keep our resident genius on Atlantis?"

***

Tracking someone in a city such as Atlantis was difficult, even for Ronon. Not impossible, only more difficult than usual.

He could catch tell-tail traces of where someone had recently passed—a smudge, a smell, a footprint in the dust. On a planet there was always so much more evidence to look for. Here, he was limited by what the hard walls and floor could hold.

Ronon moved cautiously, carefully. He didn't want McKay to know he was being watched or followed. He had no intention of spooking the already on-edge scientist. Even though he'd only been here a short time, he'd seen what the man could do—what he did on a regular basis. Atlantis stood a much better chance with him here.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, Ronon finally spotted him on yet another balcony. He'd almost passed this particular place by, preparing to move on, until he caught the slight hint of color against the grey.

Moving closer to the doors, but not near enough to trigger the automatic sensor, he leaned in, smiling to himself as he spotted the missing scientist, sitting slumped against the outer wall of the city, knees drawn up against his chest, arms pulling them tight, his head leaning back against the wall behind as he eyes gazed out, nearly unblinking, toward the horizon.

Backing up several feet, he ducked into an alcove across the hall and waited, watching. Maybe one day, there wouldn't be a need for any of them to hide.

***

"How did I make it worse?" John Sheppard asked, throwing his hands up in the air as he stalked to the far side of the room. He turned sharply, whipping around to face Elizabeth again. "You were the one that just let him walk away without a fight. I at least tried to talk some sense into him."

Elizabeth's eyebrow rose at his statement and he rolled his eyes a little, scowling at her. "So, maybe you wouldn't classify what we did as talk…"

"John," she said, drawing the word out a little as she leaned back in her chair, eyeing everyone in the room. Lorne, Radek, Carson, and Teyla had followed him in only to find Kate already here, perched on one of the chairs in the office.

"Okay, fine, we argued, but that's better than saying absolutely nothing at all," he said, his voice rising. "It was like you actually wanted him to leave."

He turned, glancing at the people standing silently behind him. "Why is it that I'm the only one talking here?"

Carson glanced down for a moment before he raised his head, meeting the Colonel's gaze. "Kate recommended that we allow Rodney to make his own decisions about what he wanted to do from this point on."

"And this is different than normal?"

When the doctor refused to continue, he turned on the seated woman, advancing toward her several steps. "How is letting Rodney resign a good thing?"

"With all the events that he's been through recently, I believe Rodney has lost his sense of being and his own sense of direction. For him to…heal, he needs to feel like he has control of his actions once again." Kate shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable. Her gaze shifted slightly to Elizabeth before she continued. Apparently there had been a conversation between the two of them before they'd arrived. Now _that_ would have been interesting to hear.

"I suggested to both Elizabeth and Carson that we show our support for whatever decision Rodney made."

"Well, that was bad advice."

"John," Weir warned, the tone of her voice clear.

"What?" he asked turning toward her, one hand gesturing toward Kate. "It was bad advice. I'm not one to sugarcoat things, Elizabeth."

"I agree, ma'am," Lorne said, stepping forward, the muscles of his jaw tight. "By not fighting to keep him, we're basically telling him we don't want him here, that he doesn't matter to us or the city."

"You all agree?"

Several nods echoed around the room.

"So what do you propose?" Weir asked, an eyebrow raised.

Sheppard glanced at Lorne, catching Beckett's gaze as well. "Simple. We have to make Rodney think staying is his idea."

***

Rodney glanced around the room, hands on his hips as he surveyed his accumulated possessions. He had a few days to put everything in order, but why wait until last minute?

There was something so permanent about packing.

Granted, he still had nearly everything organized since before his mission to 218, but that was more as a courtesy for whoever was going to have to pack it up. He never thought it would be him.

A call over his radio, though, distracted him. "Zelenka to McKay, please respond."

Rolling his eyes, he tapped his headset. "Didn't you get the memo? I resigned. You're in charge. That's why you're going to be getting the big bucks."

"Does your resignation mean that brain is not working anymore?"

"No, of course not," Rodney scowled, more out of habit than for effect.

"So, I require your help with a project. Would you be able to tear yourself away from lounging in chair to assist?"

He sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. "Fine. What do you want?"

"This is not phone consult. I require your presence in the labs."

"Zelenka, I’m in the middle—"

"And did I mention that this is time sensitive? Now would be good. I expect to see you in five minutes. Zelenka out."

With click of the closing connection, Radek was gone, leaving Rodney standing in the middle of his room with his mouth hanging open. Shaking himself, he moved automatically to the door, tugging his casual shirt down over the top of his jeans as he stepped into the hall.

So much for packing.

***

Lorne could hear McKay long before he saw him.

He knew from their plotting that Radek was part of the first wave, but Lorne was never sure what the Czech was up to half of the time. Hell, he knew better than to ask the man who provided him with some fine, smooth slightly illegal alcohol on a semi-regular basis.

He just didn't expect to have McKay—and now Zelenka—yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. As he turned the corner, finally walking into the lab he spotted the two men in question standing only a foot or two apart, their hands waving, expressions serious. Lorne was surprised they'd actually managed to avoid hitting each other with the way their arms were whipping about.

"…you take stupid pills this morning?"

"Just because I happen to disagree with your—"

"Disagree! How about totally ignoring what I've been saying for the past three hours!"

"Ignoring you is hard to do so with the sheer volume you emit. While I agree that the beginning of your hypothesis may be accurate, I am merely suggesting that there may be another way to continue the project without sacrificing the little weapon's grade naquadah we have been able to obtain."

Before Rodney could continue on his rant, Lorne cleared his throat and cut in. "Gentlemen, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Only the sheer stupidity of one of Atlantis' scientists," Rodney replied, gesturing with his left hand toward Zelenka as he fixed his eyes on the Major. "Did you want something or were you just standing there for your health? I have things to do you know."

"How do you know I'm here looking for you?"

McKay's eyes widened a little as he crossed his hands over his chest. "There is always the possibility that you may want to talk to one of the morons who work in this department. And if that's the case, have at it. I've been trying to pack all morning." McKay took a few steps forward, moving as if he was going to go around Lorne, but the Major reached out, snagging a piece of the physicist's t-shirt, stopping him.

"I was, actually, looking for you."

"Oh?" McKay paused for a beat. "So, what was it you wanted? I don't have all day."

"I thought you did. Weir said your resignation was effective immediately, so for the next nine days you have all the time in the world to kick back and relax."

He scowled slightly, but didn't argue.

"So, I wanted to see if you'd be interested in grabbing lunch. I'm not sure how the rest of my week will be, but since I have time now I didn't want to miss the chance to at least eat one meal with you before you left."

A strange expression crossed Rodney's face for a moment, his eyes turning to focus on the far side of the room. Lorne risked a quick glance at the Czech standing behind, getting a grin in response. So far, so good.

"Fine." Rodney huffed, throwing his hands up in the air. "But I'll only agree to this if you'll let me pack in peace afterwards."

"Deal," Lorne said, smiling, already moving toward the door. When he realized the scientist wasn't following, he spun around, raising an eyebrow. McKay was standing, staring at him, confusion and bewilderment on his face, as if Lorne were a puzzle meant to be solved.

"Well?" The Major widened his eyes, tilting his head toward the door. "Food?"

"Fine fine," Rodney finally said, shaking off whatever he'd been thinking, his quick strides bringing him up alongside Lorne. He paused as they reached the door, however, apparently realizing that they were leaving Radek behind. A sheepish expression crossed his face this time as he turned back. "I'm, ah, going with the Major," Rodney said, gesturing with his thumb toward the door. "Were we done? Did you want anything?"

"Go," Radek said, shaking his head. "I can survive a few more hours without the need for food. You, however, should go. Your blood sugar must be depleted since you were obviously not thinking straight when we were speaking before."

"Not thinking straight," McKay fumed, moving as if he were going to go right back to the scientist until Lorne's hand latched onto his upper arm.

"Food, Rodney. Now."

The physicist glanced down at the hand on his arm, before tilting his head up to look at Lorne. He nodded a few beats later. "Food, right. Let's go."

Shaking off the Major, he turned and headed for the door. Lorne threw a smile over his shoulder and followed him out, hollering at McKay to wait up.

***

The next few days were pretty much the same.

He'd get a call mid-morning from someone—anyone really, and another in the afternoon. It changed every day and the list was getting longer every time he turned around. Right now it included Zelenka, Lorne, Carson, Teyla, Ronon, Kusangi, the Canadian tech in the gateroom whose name he now never needed to bother learning, Katie Brown, a few of the marines asking for pointers about getting on Radek's good side, and a hand full of other scientists. They had all asked him for help, ranging from small favors, advice on projects, a consult about one thing or another, a simple meal, or a slightly more complex farewell ritual and ceremony that had involved lots of candles, some strange Athosian food—none containing the hint of citrus—and incense.

He'd packed in between everything, little by little. Throwing out some stuff, shoving the rest into crates for shipment back to Earth, he was almost done. With two days left until the Daedalus' departure, he knew he needed to hurry, but Radek had called again this morning about yet another project and Rodney had gone. They'd argued and discussed and then argued some more until they were both satisfied with the results.

So now, Rodney was wandering around the lab looking for anything else he might have left behind. He'd been through here twice already, but right now he couldn't make himself go back to packing. So instead, he snooped, ignoring the glares and annoyed sighs coming from Zelenka.

Picking up some pages the Czech had left on his desk, he paged through them, stopping at a memo from Elizabeth. The date was recent, yesterday afternoon in fact. Pulling it free from the stack, he scanned it quickly.

It was the passenger and cargo manifest for the next departure.

He immediately ran through what he remembered was going back to the SGC from the science department and most of it looked exactly as it should. He flipped over the page, finding the passenger list at the end.

He spotted his name quickly, at the top out of alpha order. He rolled his eyes. They must be eager to get rid of him.

Other names were not surprising. Some of the sick and injured who needed more constant care were going back. Some scientists and military personnel who he knew were rotating out of this assignment.

He paused, though, at three names.

Rodney knew the scientist was not scheduled to return for another year at the least. And the other two…why were they heading back? They'd only joined the expedition a few months ago.

"Zelenka," Rodney said, waving the memo in his hands as he dumped the rest of the sheets back onto the table, "mind if I borrow this?"

The Czech didn't even raise his head from his computer. "If it means you will stop riffling through my papers, yes. Go already."

"Huh," Rodney said absently, his mind already on his next conversation as he walked out of the lab.

***

"Zelenka to Lorne."

The major paused in his inventory of the armory, tapping his headset. "I read you, Doctor Z."

"I believe Rodney is on his way to you. He discovered the memo."

"Roger that. I'll be waiting."

Lorne clicked off and a beat later it chirped again. "McKay to Lorne."

"Lorne here," he said, trying to conceal the smile on his face. "What can I do for you, McKay?"

"Are you busy? I needed to ask you something."

"I'm in the middle of inventory."

"Oh."

After a pause of silence, Lorne spoke up, shaking his head. "Did you want something?"

"It won't take long. I just need to confirm something and I thought you would know. But it's really not that important. More of a curiosity, actually," McKay said, beginning to ramble.

"McKay!" Lorne shouted into the link, pushing through the noise that was Rodney. "I'm in the armory and can always use a break. Swing by if you want."

"Oh, thanks, Major. I'll do that. McKay out."

Lorne smiled, tapping his headset one last time. "Lorne to Sheppard."

"Sheppard here."

"Hook, line, and sinker, sir. He'll be coming at you within the hour."

"Thanks. I'll be ready. Sheppard out."

Shaking his head, a broad smile on his face, Lorne turned back to his PDA, checking where he'd left off. He didn't have a lot of time until Hurricane McKay swept through and he did want to finish this up before tomorrow.

***

Striding into the armory, McKay spotted Lorne at the far end, concentration on his face as he went through a crate of C4. He felt bad for the man—mainly for the mind-numbing work he was doing now, not the remaining behind to fight the scary aliens who can suck your life from your chest thing.

"Major," he said, pitching his voice to carry to the other side of the room as he sidestepped around crates and boxes. It normally wasn't this bad, he recalled, but apparently after a delivery from the SGC it was going to be like this until they got everything stored.

Lorne glanced up quickly, before turning back to his PDA. "Give me one, second," he said, tapping at the screen. Nodding to himself, he turned around, heading toward McKay.

"So," he said as they both reached a crate in the middle of the room, hitching up a leg to rest on the corner while McKay decided to remain standing. "What did you want?"

"Have you looked at this?" McKay asked, shoving the slightly wrinkled pages into the Major's hands, pacing several steps away as Lorne looked it over.

"I see you're stealing Zelenka's mail," Lorne commented and McKay turned on his heel, catching the tail-end of a smile on the other man's face.

"I borrowed it. And, besides, he said I could."

Lorne nodded, his eyes dropping back to the sheets of paper in his hands, reading each page. "It looks pretty routine, McKay," he finally said, offering it back to him several minutes later.

"What do you know about Clark and Andrews?"

"What about them?" Lorne asked, rubbing a hand across his face.

"Why are they headed back? Didn't they just get here?"

Lorne shrugged. "I have no idea, McKay. You might want to ask Colonel Sheppard or Doctor Weir. They'd know for sure."

"No," McKay said, unease growing at the thought of talking to either of them. "No, that's okay."

"Look, if you're curious enough to track me down, it's obviously important to you. Just find Colonel Sheppard. I'm sure he'd be able to tell you what you wanted to know. And, speaking of the Colonel," Lorne said, rising to his feet, "I should get back to work. He wanted this finished today before we headed out on the mission tomorrow."

"Mission?"

"Yeah. We're headed back to 218. We wanted to see if we could learn more about the Oracle and check to make sure one of the other survivors was doing okay. A neighborly visit."

"Huh," McKay said, not remembering anything about an Oracle or another survivor of the culling. It was like things were proceeding as normal even though he was not part of it anymore.

"McKay?" Lorne asked, drawing Rodney's attention back to the other man.

"Thank, Major," he answered, ignoring the concern he'd heard in the single word. Moving toward the exit, he threw the rest of his response over his shoulder. "I think I'm going to find Colonel Sheppard. Thanks for your help."

***

Thanks to Lorne's quick call on the radio, Carson managed to catch up with the physicist a few corridors away from the armory.

"Rodney," Carson called, managing to stop the other man before he rounded the corner toward the nearest transporter.

Holding up a finger, he pointed to his headset and scowled. "Yes, Colonel, I appreciate you taking the time to squeeze me into your busy schedule. Now, would you mind telling me where you are?"

Carson watched, trying to keep a smile off his face, as Rodney listened to Sheppard's directions.

"What the hell are you doing there?" Rodney finally said, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. I'll be there in about ten minutes. McKay out." Turning his attention to Carson, he narrowed his eyes. "You wanted something I presume."

Shaking his head, Carson rolled his eyes at the curt statement. "Yes, I saw you and wanted to remind you about your departure exam."

"Yes, yes, yes," Rodney said, waving his hand as he turned to start walking down the hall again, Carson at his side. "I have time yet. We can do it tomorrow or the next morning after. Plenty of time."

"Just don't put it off too long. Without it you can't head back to the SGC."

Rodney glared at him, but continued walking. "This is one thing I don't understand. I have how long on board the Daedalus? Why don't they just do it there?"

"I imagine it's because Colonel Caldwell doesn't want any strange disease on his ship. We are trying to make sure we don't infect Earth as well."

"Fine," Rodney huffed. "I won't forget. I'll make sure you get one last chance to poke holes in me. Anything else?"

"Nae, that's all," he said as they finally stopped outside the transporter. When Rodney didn't move to enter, Carson raised an eyebrow. "Your ten minutes is running out."

"I'm surprised Sheppard actually knows how to tell time sometimes," Rodney said, stepping in, the door sliding shut behind him a moment later. When they re-opened, it was empty and Carson entered, selecting the point closest to the infirmary. If things went as planned, Rodney should be slinking in within the next few hours for a post-mission physical.

If things went according to plan.

***

John Sheppard liked patrolling Atlantis. It wasn't hard and it gave him time to explore and enjoy the city they'd come to call home. He didn't get the opportunity to do it often, mainly because of his other responsibilities and missions, but when he got the time, he usually put himself on the rotation.

Like today.

Granted, this time it fit into their plans for him to be out in the boonies, but all for good reason. If he and McKay were going to talk, John didn't want an audience.

Passing the grounding station, John rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension that was building. Ever since their argument about a week ago, he'd managed to avoid Rodney. Although from what he'd heard, McKay had been doing his own Sheppard-and-Weir avoidance dance when he wasn't busy helping everyone out, trying to stay out of the mess hall or other public locations John and Elizabeth frequented regularly.

There was a time when they'd coordinated their schedules to sit and have lunch together, but that seemed like a long time ago.

He heard McKay's footfalls echoing down the hall before he saw the scientist. Pausing, John back-tracked pausing outside the door to the grounding station as Rodney came into view, annoyance in his face, anger in his movements, his hand clenched around several sheets of paper which he started waving in the air as soon as he spotted Sheppard.

"Now that you made me trek all the way out here, you had better be able to answer my damn question." He shoved the papers in John's face.

Sheppard raised an eyebrow, but took the sheets out of McKay's hands, smoothing them as he glanced down. When Rodney didn't continue, he looked up, catching the scientist staring at him. "You had a question, McKay?"

***

After foisting the memo on Sheppard, McKay realized that this might be the last time he'd see the man. He had no real intention of spending any time with him and if Lorne was right, Sheppard was probably heading back to 218 tomorrow. And, depending on what they found, might not even be here when the Daedalus left.

He found that thought unnerving, but knew he should be grateful he didn't have to deal with him ever again.

When he finally felt the weight of the man's gaze, he focused once again, realizing he'd been staring.

"You had a question, McKay?"

Shaking off the last bits of his thoughts, he nodded. "Yes, yes. Andrews and Clark. Why are they going back to Earth?"

Sheppard's eyes narrowed slightly, handing back the papers. "I'm sorry, McKay, but with your current status I really can't discuss it."

Sheppard moved, stepping closer to the automatic doors of the grounding station and they sighed open.

"What do you mean you can't discuss it?" Rodney demanded, taking a step closer, forcing Sheppard to back up a few more steps, his movement bringing them outside onto the small area where the control console for the grounding station was housed.

How could Sheppard take that kind of attitude with him, especially after everything? He could feel his blood pressure rising. "Those are the two—" he began, only to stop, realizing what he was saying.

Sheppard, though, was nodding, a strange expression on his face, something he couldn’t place.

"Exactly, McKay."

"Exactly what?"

Sheppard glanced away, his eyes narrowing as he looked out across the ocean. He took a breath, turning back to McKay after a long pause. "Look," he began, his voice tight. "I know I owe you an apology for a lot of shit you've been through. But since you decided to resign, I don't have a whole lot of time to make it up to you. In any case, however, I'd be remiss in my job if I didn't bring them up on charges knowing what I know—the harassment, both in person and now as I recently discovered, in email."

McKay tried not to let himself react, but it was hard not to. He had lived through more than a month of sheer hell because of his man, someone he'd considered a friend. His next words were harsh, bitter.

"Remiss in your job? Is that all this is to you?"

"What do you want from me, McKay? I'm sorry. I was angry—"

"Yeah, that was patently obvious."

"But it was more than that." Sheppard paused, dropping his gaze. "You scared the shit out of me. You could have died."

***

He could feel McKay's eyes on him, but he couldn't look up. Instead he moved away, his strides taking him to the railing, which he gripped tightly, his knuckles turning white. He heard the other man step closer, stopping somewhere to the left of his shoulder.

It was hard to miss the piercing glare.

"When everything hit the fan," he finally began, his words quiet, but loud enough to carry to the one man who needed to hear them. "I was angry—at you, me, the situation, everything. But you'd also scared me. If I hadn't been able to talk you down, to convince you to leave, you'd be dead. Hell, I'd be dead and we would never have had this conversation."

"It was my decision to try and get that weapon to work. It was my decision that killed Collins." While the words were strong, determined, McKay's tone wasn't as biting as a few minutes ago.

"No, McKay. You don't understand." Sheppard sighed. "It was my decision to talk to Elizabeth, to push her to let us keep trying. I thought it was a good idea, but when it almost killed us…I was angry. You'd pushed me to talk to her, using our…friendship as leverage. You instantly became exactly like everyone else I ever knew, that I hated. They knew how to manipulate people and events to get what they wanted without caring the consequences or who accidentally died when things went to hell."

John dropped his voice again, leaning more of his weight against the railing. "I'd lost too many friends because of people like that."

Rodney's reply, when it finally came, was raw. "Is that how you see me?"

***

Sheppard hates me.

The words became a chant that ran through McKay's mind as the Colonel stumbled on with his explanation, the words dragged from deep within.

Now, McKay wasn't surprised events had transpired the way they had. And it made perfect sense to him, like a light had suddenly flicked on in his mind, illuminating every corner. And even as something inside clenched, he had to know the truth.

"Is that how you see me?"

Sheppard turned, his eyes wide. "No," he said, shaking his head emphatically. "Not at all. But at that moment, with everything piling up, the anger was the only thing that kept me going."

He paused, holding Rodney's gaze. "Elizabeth and I…" He shook his head. "I know I was an asshole and Elizabeth wasn't much better. And honestly, if I were you, I'd probably lodge complaints against us. And you still might, I know. I'd be the first to admit we deserve anything you want to throw at us at this point."

McKay refused to look away, trying to read into the other man's expression, but it was as if everything was laid bare, nothing held back. He finally had to look away, the tension and emotion too strong.

"Just forgiving you is not going to make everything better."

"I know."

"Right now, I'm not even sure things can ever get better."

"I know that too, and that's what makes me angry now, that things got so screwed up." John took a breath, letting it out slowly. "And when you were culled…I thought I'd lost any opportunity I might have had to fix it, make it right. And when I read that note you left and realized what we'd driven you to—" Sheppard broke off, glancing away, but not moving. "I was angry, confused, scared. I'm the one that's supposed to be willing to die to save Atlantis, not the other way around. I couldn't understand why you'd do that, why you thought it was the only way to fix things."

McKay could feel his eyes widening at Sheppard's comments. He glanced back, seeing the raw emotion on the other man's face.

"I was angry at you. I was angry at myself for letting you think the only way you were useful to us anymore was through your death. That's the furthest thing from the truth. We need you here on Atlantis, want you here. No one wants to you leave, resign. Give us a chance to prove it to you."

"Colonel—"

"I’m only asking for a chance to set things straight."

"But how can you say that when you don't even trust me?"

***

Sheppard felt his eyes widening at the simple question and the sheer resignation in McKay's voice.

John wanted to kick himself very hard in the ass, hating that his friend felt this way and knowing it was entirely his fault he did.

"Rodney," Sheppard said, taking a step forward, his eyes fixed on the scientists'. "I said that in anger, as a way to make you feel bad. I was looking for a way to get back at you, even as petty as it was. I was angry. Confused. Hurting. But right now, you need to know I have never stopped trusting you and I will continue to trust you with my life. Am I clear?"

McKay nodded slowly, disbelief in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face. Nearly a minute passed before the physicist spoke.

"I don't know if I can…we can…fix this," he said finally, a hand rising to gesture between the two of them.

"I know."

McKay looked at him for several beats before glancing away, the forgotten sheets of paper in his hand crinkling as he folded his arms over his chest, shoving his hand into his armpit.

"I need time to think about everything."

"Take the time you need," John said, already moving toward the door. "But do me a favor, and remember all the people who've you've helped this week. None of them want you to leave, and none of them only want you here for your brain. We're your friends."

McKay nodded, standing in the middle of the balcony, uncertainty on his face.

"If you need anything, call someone, please. You don't have to do this alone."

The other man turned, catching his eye for a moment. "Right now I do."

Sheppard nodded and McKay turned away, moving to stand at the railing, leaning against it, gazing out across the water. John paused for a minute, simply watching the other man, wishing he could do something more, but knowing that he'd done everything he could.

Taking a breath of the ocean air, he stepped into the hallway, allowing the doors to close behind him.

Now, all he could do was wait—and pray.

***

Carson Beckett glanced up from his medical journal when he heard the knock on the door jam to his office. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Rodney. It was a lot earlier than he expected.

"Rodney?" he asked, rising to his feet.

The scientist almost looked apologetic. "You said I needed a departure exam, but you look busy. Should I schedule it for another time?"

"No," Carson said, his heart dropping. "We can do it now if you want. It won't take but a few minutes to get everything set up."

"Okay," he replied, nodding slightly, his eyes fixed on a patch of the floor.

Beckett moved past him, gesturing to a nearby bed. "Hop on up and I'll be right back."

He retrieved the equipment he needed, conducting the exam quickly and efficiently, neither man seemingly in the mood for conversation. In a way it was surreal, since the Canadian didn't complain one iota about the blood draw or any of the tests.

About thirty minutes later once everything was complete, Carson jotted down a few things in the chart and nodded to McKay. "You're all set. It looks like you're good to go, but we won't know of or sure until the results come back from the labs. If you experience anything…out of the ordinary, please inform me immediately. Understood?"

Rodney nodded, sliding off the bed. "Yeah," he replied absently. He paused a moment before focusing on Beckett, offering a half-smile. "Thanks, Carson, for everything."

"My pleasure," he replied instinctively, but also knowing that Rodney wasn't thinking about the exam.

McKay moved slowly, meandering through the infirmary, throwing a last look over his shoulder as he headed out the main door. Glancing at bedside table, he took a few steps closer, reaching out to grab the slightly warm vials, moving instinctively to the lab to drop off he samples for testing.

He'd have to break the news to the group, to Sheppard, but right now he needed time to think.

***

After grabbing a quick dinner in the mess hall, Rodney felt restless. He still had things to pack, but he wasn't in the mood.

Instead, he headed for the science labs, his lab.

He didn't bother with the overhead lights. Instead, he relied on the ambient glow of lab equipment and the lighting that spilled in from the hall to the illuminate the room.

Pushing back the stool, he sat, allowing the room to close over him. He listened to the hum of the city and it soothed his nerves, easing some of the tension in his body. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath and released it slowly, more anxiety draining away.

He was torn.

He didn't want to leave, but he wasn't sure he could stay.

Sheppard had said all the right words with the right tone, but was it too little, too late, or had it really made a difference?

A light tap pulled his attention away from his thoughts, his head coming up as his eyes scanned the area, finally landing on a sheepish Major Lorne standing in the doorway.

"Sorry," he said, offering an apologetic shrug. "Am I interrupting?"

Rodney just looked at him, not really sure of the answer. Lorne took his silence as an invitation to enter and McKay didn't stop him.

"You talk to the Colonel?" He asked, sliding into a nearby stool, an elbow resting on the edge of the worktable.

McKay nodded. "We talked, yes."

"And?"

"And you people are worse than old women, you know that?" he finally replied, shaking his head.

"But, did it work? That's the real question." Lorne raised an eyebrow, a smirk slowly growing on his face. "If it did, I'll let you call us anything you want."

Rodney couldn't help but chuckle, rolling his eyes. "Maybe."

"Maybe? That's all I get?"

"Look, Major, this isn't a joke. We're talking about the future of my career and my life here. I don't intend to flip a coin and decide."

Lorne held up hands. "I know. I realize that. I just wanted to check in on you and remind you that you have friends here who are…concerned about what's going on in your brain right now. We all screwed up. We know that. And if you'll let us, we'd like to make it up to you."

McKay sighed, rubbing his hand over his face before snaking it around to dig at the muscles of his neck.

"I know, Major. I just need to figure this out myself."

Lorne nodded. "I understand. If I don't see you again," he said, rising to his feet, quickly straightening and giving McKay a salute. "It was a pleasure to work with you, sir."

He held McKay's eyes for a brief moment before turning and leaving without another word, silence settling over him like a blanket.

Turning, he leaned against the table, resting his head on his forearms as he took another deep breath, weighing all the pros and cons in his mind.

He didn't want to make the wrong decision. He had a life full of them already.

He sighed again, allowing the hum of the city to comfort him, to hold him together.

He stayed there, bent over his desk, letting his mind drift, examining and studying each and every situation and scenario he could come up with. When he finally raised his head, his eyes were gritty, his entire body sore and tired.

How much time had passed? He wasn't sure, and didn't particularly care.

He finally had his answer.

Pushing away from the desk, he moved out into the hallway. There was hardly anyone around and he glanced at his watch, noting the time, surprised it was nearly 2700 hours. He turned, headed toward the senior staff quarters, his long strides eating up the distance.

Stopping in front of his destination, he paused before raising his hand, signaling the door chime.

He waited as patiently as he could, counting the seconds until the doors slid open to reveal a half-asleep John Sheppard in a rumpled t-shirt and boxers.

"McKay?"

"It's going to take more than an apology to fix things," he said without preamble, meeting Sheppard's bloodshot eyes with his own.

Sheppard dragged his hand through his hair. "I know that."

"But I'm willing to try if you are."

A smile broke out on the Colonel's face, relief mixed in. "More than willing."

"Good," Rodney said, nodding. "And I want to go to 218 tomorrow."

An eyebrow rose in reply. "Tomorrow?"

"I think I deserve a chance to examine the Ancient base there firsthand. And I need to figure out what that Oracle is."

"Well, then," Sheppard said, "you should probably get some sleep. We're scheduled to leave at 0800. And pack for overnight. We're probably staying."

"I can do that." McKay took a few steps away, before turning back to the Colonel. "Thanks."

"No," Sheppard said, shaking his head, his expression serious. "I'm the one who should be thanking you for giving us a second chance."

McKay paused, tilting his head to the side. "Think of it this way, Colonel. This will give us both the opportunity to earn each other's trust back. Let's leave it at that."

Sheppard was silent, offering a tired nod.

"Oh, and Colonel?"

"Yeah?"

"If you do anything like this ever again, I will kick your ass before I resign."

"Understood. And, McKay?"

Rodney paused, looking at Sheppard carefully.

"If you ever even consider risking your life for no apparent good reason without talking to someone about it and trying to find another way, I _will_ kill you."

Pursing his lips, McKay nodded once, and moved off down the hallway, allowing the darkened corridors to embrace him.

***

"Anyone sitting here?" Rodney asked, tray in hand as he hovered next to the table, visibly uncomfortable, as Lorne and Beckett glanced up, breakfasts momentarily forgotten.

Lorne responded first, shaking off his initial surprise at seeing the scientist—complete in grey BDUs no less. "Just Carson and I," he said, gesturing to the empty chairs. "Feel free to join us."

Carson's mouth was open a little, his eyes refusing to leave Rodney as the other man walked behind Lorne, sliding into the adjacent seat. Glancing up several times as he pushed the food around on his plate, McKay finally spoke up. "Do I have something on my face? I'm usually not that exciting to stare at. Although it might be my brain that has you totally enchanted—"

Lorne swatted him casually, chuckling as his comment broke the awkwardness. "As if, McKay, as if."

"Rodney," Carson finally said, shoving his reconstituted eggs around on his plate, "I'm a mite surprised to see you down here this early. Not that I didn't want to see ye before you left, but I thought you'd be finishing your packing for the departure later today."

The scientist dropped his eyes, his left hand fingering the mug of coffee on the corner of his tray. "I'm not going."

Lorne and Carson exchanged a quick, triumphant smile before they turned back to McKay. Now the clothes made more sense. "What changed your mind?" Lorne asked, shoving his tray forward so he could lean an elbow on the corner of the table.

McKay shrugged. "It's not totally made up yet, but I decided to give things a chance to settle out, see if everything would get worked out to my satisfaction. If it can't I can always take a quick step through the gate…I guess I always could, instead of waiting for the Daedalus to visit…but then there's the whole wasting resources debate and since we never really have figured out exactly how much energy is needed to transfer a person through the gate back to the SGC…"

Lorne waved his hands, trying to get the obviously nervous scientist to slow down. "It's fine, McKay. You don't have to explain it to the very last bitter detail. We're just glad you decided to stay."

"You are?" McKay's head perked up a little, an eye peering out toward the two men. Any response they may have said was interrupted, however, as Ronon and Teyla approached the table, sitting down to join them.

"It is good to see you again, Doctor McKay," Teyla began, a wide smile on her face as he picked up her mug of Athosian tea. "I was pleased to hear you have decided to join us on the mission today."

Carson's head snapped around. "Mission? You're going on the mission?" His eyes narrowed. "And just when were you plannin' on tellin' us about this?"

Rodney glanced between all of the table's occupants, a sheepish expression on his face. "I..ah…wasn't…exactly going to say anything."

"McKay," Lorne growled. The twitch of a smile on his lips, though, cut any of the harshness away.

"What do you want me to say?" McKay asked, his hands waving, his face showing the familiar range of emotion they were accustomed to. "I didn't think I needed the vampires in the infirmary to poke me with any more holes since I just had my departure exam yesterday and I spoke to Sheppard last night and he agreed. So, here I am."

"It's about time you got back to work, McKay," Ronon commented. Lorne caught the twinkle in his eyes that the Satedan allowed the scientist to see.

"Yeah, yeah," McKay muttered, scowling toward the man, but refusing to be baited. He dug into his breakfast, the food disappearing at a fast rate. Lorne finally broke the silence.

"So, did you happen to mention this to Doctor Weir yet?"

McKay's fork poised mid-flight. "Not quite," he replied around a mouthful of food. Grabbing his mug, he washed it down with a gulp of coffee before he continued. "I didn't think waking her up last night would be a…prudent decision."

"When were you thinking about breaking the news?" Carson asked.

Rodney's mouth twitched in a small smile, the corner rising. "Oh, just before we left I imagine."

***

A tapping on the edge of her office door made Elizabeth glance up mid-sip. She switched between coffee and the Athosian tea Teyla had introduced her to when they'd been trying to save some of the java beans for the scientists who seemed to live on the stuff.

"Doctor McKay," she said, eyes wide, obviously not expecting to see him.

He stepped inside, rolling his shoulders a little under the weight of his off-world pack. Pack? Had she missed a memo? She had spoken briefly with John earlier but he hadn't mentioned anything about Rodney. She pulled her thoughts back to listen to what McKay was saying.

"…and I thought I should probably stop here before the mission."

"Mission?" she said, her forehead furrowing. Yes, she'd missed something big. "But I thought—"

"Yeah, but that's not why I'm here. You know that letter I gave you? I'm going to need it back."

An eyebrow rose in response as she gently placed her mug back on her desk before she spilled it all over her computer. The last thing she needed was him yelling at her about short-circuiting another piece of equipment. She swore her ears were still ringing from the lecture she received when it happened nearly fourteen months ago. "I think I missed something."

Rodney glanced away, his eyes focusing on the gate for a moment before he turned back, chagrin and discomfort on his face. "I probably should have…explained it a little better when I first walked in, I imagine. But, I decided…late last night actually after falling asleep in my lab…but that part's really immaterial…" He waved his hand absently. "I decided, to, ah, try to fix things here before giving up entirely. I know it's not going to be easy, but the Colonel and I have reached an…understanding."

She nodded slowly. "If that's what you want…"

"I think it is," he said, nodding. He turned a little, catching Sheppard's eye as he stood at one of the consoles talking to Zelenka. McKay offered a small smile which John returned before the scientist swung back around to her.

"So, the letter?"

"I'll make sure it's in your quarters when you get back."

"Good, good," he said, turning to go, but stopping at Weir's next words.

"Rodney," she said, her voice quiet, hopeful. "I'm glad you've decided to stay. But I was hoping that we could…talk about what happened. I'm…sorry that things went as far as they did."

He nodded slowly from his place just inside the door. A long moment passed before he turned back toward her, his nearly silent footsteps bringing him closer, his fingertips resting on the edge of her desk, turning white as he pressed down.

"I'm not going to say that I'm not…angry or hurt, about what happened. I am. There's no getting around it. The entire…situation, in my opinion, was handled badly, unprofessionally."

Weir nodded, wincing, but knowing he was exactly correct.

"But then, what I did wasn't exactly a small thing and tensions were at an all-time high." He shrugged, a rueful expression crossing his face. "I know probably should…talk about what happened, but right now I need some air and this looked like a good way to get some. Sheppard agreed."

"Okay," she said, nodding slowly. Her eyes drifted past him where the rest of the team—John, Teyla, Ronon, Lorne, and Carson— waited before they headed up to the jumper bay. "But promise me we will talk."

He rolled his eyes and sighed, but nodded. "Yes, fine."

"Good," she said a genuine smile on her face. At least she'd get the opportunity to try and rebuild things. She wanted that, needed it even.

He turned to leave once again, but her words stopped him again. "Rodney, I'm sorry and I'm glad you decided to stay."

He let out a long breath and turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder toward her. "Where exactly would I go? I'm already home."

She let him leave this time, walking out to stand next to Carson, still keeping his distance from John, but she knew that would change in time. At least now they had a chance to rebuild what they'd torn down.

And Rodney was right. This was home.

***

The End


End file.
